


Deep and Dark is the Belly of the Beast

by Casey_K



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Caring Peter, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, First Time Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Partners, Possessive Derek, Promiscuous Stiles Stilinski, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Depression, Sad, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has Low Self-Esteem, Uncaring Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 38,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_K/pseuds/Casey_K
Summary: WARNINGS!This is a deep, dark, Sterek fic with a lot of buttons and heavy duty content. It is a slow burn to a happier, more confident, happy Stiles, but the beginning is not pretty. If you have any issues with depression, self-worth, abusive relationships, dubious consent, implied non-con, please, please, please, give this one a miss. If you like to follow characters through the blackest times through their struggles and traumas into the light, then this may be for you. Difficult subject matter, but some light-hearted parts as the story grows, and ultimately a happy ending.Summary:Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew he was annoying. He knew he got on most people’s last nerve because people had been telling him for as long as he could remember. But the thing was, and it was a pretty big thing, Scott had always been immune to it, hadn’t cared, or just hadn’t agreed. He’d always been supportive, and protective, and there. Until now. Now, Scott had other options and he was taking them. In a desperate attempt to feel something, anything, Stiles convinces Derek to embark on a sexual relationship. It seems however, there is going to be more to the arrangement than Stiles had bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew he was annoying. He knew he got on most people’s last nerve because people had been telling him for as long as he could remember. But the thing was, and it was a pretty big thing, Scott had always been immune to it, hadn’t cared, or just hadn’t agreed. He’d always been supportive, and protective, and there. Until now. Until the whole werewolf thing. Until Scott had somehow turned into a cool kid with other options. Girlfriend options, yes, and Stiles could forgive him that one, because, well, sex, come on… But it wasn’t just the girlfriend options Scott was taking. Scott was taking bro-time options. And not just with wolves. Scott was hanging out with Isaac, with Boyd and Erica. Scott was hanging out with Lydia—and didn’t that fucking sting—and he was hanging out with Danny, and Josh, and Brady, and a bunch of other Lacrosse Jocks. Stiles hadn’t seen him outside of school and pack meetings in weeks, and even then it was really only in passing. And it fucking hurt. Because in Stiles’ mind that showed that all those years Stiles thought he had a true brother in arms, he’d actually just had another loner kid who was desperate for someone, anyone other than Stiles to pay him the slightest attention and then it was adios annoying ADHD loser, hello shiny new cool dudes who add to my worth as a person. 

Yeah, Stiles was bitter. And lonely. And just a little bit fucking devastated. 

He sat on Derek’s couch in the loft watching Scott and Isaac play wrestle, listened to the others cheering them on, and he felt sick to his stomach. The pack meeting wrapped up and Scott didn’t even hang back for a lift, he just left without saying goodbye, and with his arm around Isaac’s shoulder. 

Almost fifteen minutes had passed before Derek noticed Stiles was still there. Because what the fuck else did he have to do on a Friday night when everyone else he knew was out having fun and partying?

“Stiles, why are you still here?” Derek said.

“Because everyone left.” _Everyone left without me._

“And that means you have to leave too. Because the meeting is over and I don’t entertain teenagers for the good of my health.”

“You have perfect health. It’s not as though it would do you any harm.” Even the thrill of arguing with Derek and lost its shine. 

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I have patience for moping teenagers.” Derek threw himself on the couch next to Stiles. “What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway? You’ve barely said a word all night.”

“Maybe I just got sick of annoying everyone. Which, let’s face it happens every time I open my mouth.”

“That’s hardly new.”

“That’s right. Nothing new. So I’ll just go home and sit on my own for the rest of my life, because even the people I care about, even my best friend, is sick of the sight of me.” Stiles swallowed the tears threatening. “Good for nothing, so I may as well go and do nothing. Alone.” He jumped up and grabbed his jacket. 

“Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute.” Derek materialised in front of the door, blocking Stiles’ route to…nothing. “What exactly is going on?”

“You got it in one. I’m annoying. Nobody wants to spend time with me.”

“Why didn’t you go out with the others?”

“Because they didn’t invite me, Derek. They’ve been getting together and hanging out without me for weeks. Tonight, I figured I’d wait until one of them spoke to me before saying anything, and guess what?”

“That’s why you’ve been so quiet, you were waiting for someone to speak to you?”

“And I didn’t get a single hello when I arrived, or a single goodbye when they were all calling out their goodbyes to you. Not a fucking word, all evening. Barely a word in school these days either.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“Don’t bother.” Stiles stepped around Derek and opened the door. “And don’t pretend like you really care. I’ll see you next week.”

 

Stiles spent the rest of the evening clearing his homework pile, completing extra credit, and doing laundry in between painfully embarrassing moments of breaking down in wracking sobs. He couldn’t even find the enthusiasm to jerk off.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek was prepared this week. He was going to watch the pack’s interactions. If they were snubbing Stiles, as he claimed they were, then Derek should really do something. Though what, he didn’t have a clue because the reality was that the kid was bloody annoying and if Derek could get away with it—he’d ignore him too. He didn’t even feel guilty thinking it. Stiles was useful for research, he was loyal and trustworthy as a pack member, but less was definitely more. 

Stiles arrived last, and Derek watched as the betas barely registered his appearance, too caught up with each other. The only person to acknowledge him was Lydia, who kind of nodded in his direction. Shit. Did that mean Derek would have to deal with another melt down after the meeting? The rest of the pack was going to shaft him again and leave Stiles behind. As the meeting went on, Stiles became more and more withdrawn, until Derek started to panic. “Stiles, what do you have planned this weekend? Are you going bowling with the rest of the pack tomorrow?” A hush settled over the room and Derek realised he’d put his foot in it. The pack had been rabbiting on about bowling all week. Stiles obviously knew nothing about it. Probably because Stiles hadn’t been there when the rest of them had called in for food, and movies. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Stiles just looked at the floor, much as he had all evening. “Guess it’s just homework for me,” he said rubbing his hands on his thighs. 

“You could come bowling with us,” Lydia said. “We’re meeting at 3pm at my house,”

Stiles snorted. “I, uh…don’t think so, Lydia. But thanks for the afterthought.”

Scott held out his hand to haul Isaac to his feet. “I think we’ll be making a move,” he said, glaring at Lydia. “See you next week, Derek.” The rest of the pack—all except Stiles, filtered out of the loft. Peter just shook his head. And Stiles promptly burst into tears. Shit, fuck, and double shit fuck.

“Stiles,” Derek started, but Stiles held up his hand to stop him, so he stopped. 

“Great tactics, nephew. You’re such a great leader.”

“Fuck off, Peter.”

“I’m just saying, there are better ways to handle these situations.”

“Oh, that’s right, because you’re such a people person.”

“More so than you, by the looks of it.”

Derek looked back to Stiles, who’s tears had dried to a snivel. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Stiles.”

“Like me,” he said, throwing his hands in the air, “I don’t know, actually want to be with me. Make me feel that I’m actually worthy as a human being.”

“Of course you are.” Derek looked at Peter, who gestured for him to go on. “You’re our best researcher.”

“Oh, that’s right. I look things up on the internet. Except there is nothing to research at the moment, so what’s the fucking point?” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m just going to go and curl up in a fucking hole somewhere else so you don’t have to deal with me.”

“That’s…fuck, Stiles. I’m not good at this. Tell me what to do to make this better, to make you better.”

Stiles looked up at him with sad, puppy eyes. “I’m just so lonely, Derek. I know the rest of the pack have been over here since last week. Aren’t I pack?” 

“You are pack, Stiles.”

“Then why didn’t anyone text to tell me you were having a movie night? Why didn’t _you_ text me, Derek?” Derek didn’t have an answer. Truth be told he hadn’t even realised Stiles wasn’t there until the film finished and there was no rambling commentary about the best bits. 

“Tell me how to make this right.” Derek’s patience was wearing. As bad as he knew it was, he just wanted to kid out of his apartment, so he could get on with other things. 

“Let me stay.”

“What?”

“Show me I’m worth something.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.” Derek flinched as Stiles touched his arm. When had the kid gotten so close? “What are you doing?”

“I’m lonely, Derek. I need someone…something, to show me, to remind me I’m alive, that I’m here.” 

_Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god._ “Stiles, you’re seventeen.”

“I need this, Derek.” Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s chest, stepped in closer, “Please. I don’t care what you do, I just want to feel something…anything…with someone.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hands as they carried on over his chest towards his zipper. “You’re being ridiculous. If you need something that much, just sit there and we’ll watch a film or something.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“I’m not going to fuck you, for god’s sake, Stiles. Stop touching me.” Derek realised Peter was still there. Watching the whole interaction with a curious look on his face. Make that a hungry look on his face. Derek pushed Stiles away. “If you want someone to fuck you, ask Peter.”

“But I want you. I want my alpha, Derek. I want you to show me I mean something to this pack. That I mean something to you.”

Crazy. Derek was in a living fucking nightmare. The kid in front of him was literally falling apart and Derek just wanted to go to bed. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek waist. “Please, Derek.” It came out as a half sob, half whine.

And Derek snapped. “Fine, get your fucking clothes off. Wait, don’t bother.” He grabbed Stiles jeans yanked on the button and zipper baring him to the knees then flipped him around and pushed him over the back of the sofa. “Don’t expect all kisses and romance. You want my cock, fine, but afterwards you’ll take Peter’s as well. Peter, find some lube. I don’t want to have to take him to casualty because I fucked him dry.” 

Derek used a bit of spit on his fingers and pushed into Stiles, not caring that Stiles hissed and tensed. “If you want it, you better damn well relax.” Peter appeared in double-quick time with lube, and from then on things started to happen. Derek opened Stiles up, making a rough, but thorough job of it, but he still wasn’t hard enough to fuck him. Why would he be? It’s nto as though he actually wanted to do this. He dragged Stiles up off the sofa and pushed him to his knees. “You’re going to have to suck me hard.” 

Stiles took him in tentatively at first but soon got a good rhythm going. It was tempting to just let him finish, that was still human interaction, right? But instead he pulled out of Stiles’ mouth, put him back over the sofa and pushed straight in. He fucked hard and fast, adjusting Stiles every now and then as he tried to crawl away from him. He’d asked for it, he’d just have to deal if it was uncomfortable.   
Derek’s orgasm took him by surprise, coming as a short, angry wave that rocked his body and left him breathless. He pulled out, letting the last splashes coat Stiles’ ass. Stiles went to stand up, but Derek held him down. “You’ll take Peter now.” Derek looked up at Peter, who already had his cock out, stroking it. “He’s all yours. Clean him up and send him home when you’re done.” 

“Send him home?”

“Fine, put him in your bed.”

Derek watched with a sick satisfaction as Peter mounted Stiles. Watched Stiles grip the sofa as Peter pounded into him, pulling on Stiles’ shoulders to get as deep as possible. He revelled in Stiles’ gritted teeth and obvious distaste at the turn of events, but the kid never made a single complaint. He took it, until Peter finally stilled. Derek watched as Peter pulled out and turned Stiles around, offering the kid a hand to finish him, keeping him upright as he came over Peter’s stomach and cock. Peter swept Stiles off his feet and carried him through to the bathroom. The worst part, was Derek didn’t even feel guilty. Maybe Stiles wouldn’t be so damned annoying if he turned out to be a decent fuck. Once he wasn’t so shell-shocked. The blowjob, wasn’t half bad. Yes, Derek could definitely see a use for Stiles in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles limped into his house with a stiff jaw and a raw ass. He’d stayed at Derek’s, wrapped up in Peter all night, and however disturbing that little nugget was, Stiles felt the best he had in months. Since way before Scott wolfed out. Peter had fucked him again, twice. Derek had called in after his morning run for a blowjob, and Peter had even made him breakfast before sending him on his way. And kissed him. Peter had kissed him. Like he meant it. Like he wanted Stiles to enjoy the sex, which by the third time he kind of did apart from the raw discomfort. But there was a warmth in his body that hadn’t been there before, accompanied by a feeling of hope, of usefulness. If servicing the Hales was what he needed to do to feel better, to feel needed, then he’d do it. And if he got better at it, maybe Derek wouldn’t look at him like he was pathetic. Maybe Derek would look at him the way Peter had looked at him this morning—like he was sexy, and attractive, and worth something. So, while losing his virginity over the back of the sofa to an angry wolf, and a horny old wolf, wasn’t how he’d pictured it all these years, he didn’t have any regrets. In fact, he was looking forward to the next time. And if the rest of the pack could call in to Derek’s whenever they wanted, so could Stiles, and he would. In a few days from now, when his ass wasn’t so sore. 

 

The look on Scott’s face when he rocked up to Derek’s to find Stiles already there was way too satisfying. “Did Derek call you?” Scott asked. 

Stiles curled his feet up on the sofa to emphasise how comfortable he was. “No, I was already here when you texted to say you were coming over.”

“Why?”

“Why are you here?”

“To hang out with my alpha,” Scott said. There was an unspoken ‘Duh’ at the end of the reply and Stiles wanted to slap him. 

“Ditto for me, buddy.” Stiles smiled at the look of confusion on Scott’s face. “Ditto for me. We’re already half way through the film, though. Are the others coming over too?”

“Stiles,” Peter appeared from the kitchen with more popcorn and a predatory grin that made Stiles roll his eyes. The man was so horny. Stiles had no idea a man his age could fuck so much. “Don’t torment the puppy.” Peter put the popcorn on the coffee table, swiped Stiles’ feet off the couch and took their place, as close to Stiles as he could, even though the rest of the couch was empty.

“So, what, you’re hanging out with Peter now? Where’s Derek?”

“In the shower,” Peter and Stiles said together around mouthfuls of popcorn. Stiles wanted to add, _‘because we just had a phenomenal threesome and he figured you’d smell it, so he made sure we all showered before you arrived. And p.s., that’s why we have popcorn—to hide the smell of come in the air.’_

“Was there something you actually wanted?” Peter said. “Or are you going to sit down and watch?”

Scott huffed and dropped on the far end of the couch. “Eww, why is the arm of the couch wet?”

Stiles nearly choked on his popcorn. Peter kindly slapped his back. “Oh,” Peter said to Scott, “I spilt a little something and had to give it a scrub. I thought I’d blotted it dry.”

“You’re so messy, Peter.” Stiles laughed. “It must be your age.”

Derek appeared before Peter could respond. He did not look happy. Not that he ever did. “You can order pizza for when the others arrive,” he said to Scott. “Only a small for Stiles, he’s already eaten.” He gave an uncharacteristic smirk in Stiles direction and popcorn fell out of Stiles’ mouth as he gaped in surprise.

“But, I’m a growing lad,” he said after another moment passed. “I need feeding up.”

“So it seems,” Derek said, wandering into the kitchen. “So it seems.”

 

And that’s how it continued for the next few months. Stiles would complete all his homework, plus extra credits—Derek insisted on that before he was allowed to come over—and then he’d go to the loft to have his brains fucked out of him by a reluctant Derek—who still seemed to enjoy getting his rocks off, thank you very much—and Peter the perve. Peter the perve who was very good at educating Stiles in the art of more sensual sex. Peter wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-Stiles like Derek, oh no. Peter was a hedonist. Which kind of explained the self-satisfied air of smugness he always had around him. Derek saw sex as a mechanistic necessity. At least when it came to fucking Stiles, anyway. Not that Stiles minded. He’d come to appreciate his burgeoning kinks in the form of being used as an insignificant sex toy by Derek-I’m-the-alpha-now-sourwolf. But it was an interesting contrast to the new and interesting sensations Peter liked introducing to Stiles’ needy body.

Stiles and Peter both whimpered as Stiles ground himself down onto Peter’s cock from where he was sitting in Peter’s lap, arms wrapped around Peter’s neck, face buried in Peter’s shoulder. “Damn that’s good,” he muttered against Peters skin. Stiles rotated his hips, setting up a hula dance rhythm, and Peter held on tighter.

“You’re good,” he murmured, sucking on Stiles earlobe. “God, you’re so good at that.”

“Enough.” They both startled at Derek’s gruff tone. Derek grabbed Stiles arm and pulled him off Peter’s lap. “I’m fed up with waiting.” He threw Stiles onto the couch next to a dazed Peter, lifted Stiles feet until his knees pressed into his chest and fucked straight into him. “You forget, Peter, you only get to fuck him because I allow it. My needs come first.”

Stiles would have thought Derek was a colossal prick if he’d had enough brain cells left to complete the thought. Derek’s cock was bigger than Peter’s, something Peter had grudgingly admitted was due to his alphaness, and in his current position, Stiles was sure Derek’s cock was somewhere inside his chest cavity, battering his lungs, and making it difficult to breathe.

“You should remember it too, Stiles, or I’ll put an end to this little arrangement and you can go back to jerking off ten times a day.”

“You know you can have me whenever you want, Derek,” Stiles managed to say. “Whenever, wherever, however. Isn’t that enough?”

“As long as you make me believe it, yes.” His thrusts came harder, deeper. “Your priority is me. Not making yourself feel good speared on Peter’s cock. Do you understand?”

“Fuck, yes. I get it.” Derek lifted Stiles hips until he was balanced only on his shoulders and carried on his jack-hammer impersonation. Stiles felt lightheaded. His own cock was inches from his lips, and he was just wondering whether he could reach up to suck it when Derek came with a growl. He pulled out, leaving Stiles to fall onto the floor and shot the rest of his load over Stiles prone body. “Way to make a guy feel loved, Derek.”

Derek grabbed Stiles by the hair and dragged him to his knees. “It’s not my concern whether you feel loved, Stiles. You wanted to be useful.” He tugged harder, and Stiles hissed at the pain in his scalp. He always knew there was a reason to keep his hair buzzed. He had a mind to cut his new locks off as soon as he got home, except there was a sick thrill of pleasure racing around the edges of his pain. “You are useful,” Derek said, letting go and pushing him to the floor. “For as long as I don’t feel obliged to pander to your little boy needs. Got it?”

“Got it,” Stiles said, straightening himself out and looking at Peter, who hadn’t said a word since Stiles had been ripped off his cock. 

“You fuck, and you suck,” Derek said. “And you do it for me first.”

“Always.”

“Okay, then,” Derek said, seeming satisfied with Stiles’ response. “Peter, he’s all yours. But stop spoiling him with all your feelings crap.”

“But I like the feelings crap,” Peter said, reaching out to pull Stiles back onto his lap. “I like looking after our little plaything.”

“Whatever.” Derek threw his arms in the air and walked off.

Peter snuggled Stiles against him. “I like making you feel good,” Peter said, kissing over Stiles’ shoulders. 

Stiles shuddered. “I like that you like that.”

“Are you ready to take me?”

Stiles nodded. “Same position?”

“Mmm, yes please.” 

Stiles slipped back over Peter’s cock and took up gyrating his hips until they both blew a load, Stiles without a hand to his cock, which yeah, that was a first. Even with controlling I-have-serious-issues-of-ownership-Derek around, Stiles had to admit his sex life was pretty damned good for a seventeen-year-old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is on a journey of his own, and yes, he continues to spiral into a deeper darker place (hence the title of the fic--it's Derek's deep dark belly Stiles finds himself in). So, yeah, the transformation is slower for Derek, but it does happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep breaths, people. It's a rough one. Hang on in there. 
> 
> After the roughest night yet, Stiles gets some home truths from Peter, and re-evaluates the situation they've landed themselves in.

It was just after Stiles eighteenth birthday that things took an unusual, and disturbing turn. Stiles turned up at the loft for his usual fuckfest to find Derek in the kitchen, but no sign of Peter. Not wanting to set Derek off, Stiles didn’t ask where Peter was, and resigned himself to the inevitable rough handling. 

“How do you want me?” Stiles asked, knowing it would turn Derek on. 

“On your knees, sucking my cock while I finish this.”

Stiles did as he was told. He was a few minutes into his routine when he realised Derek was making food for more than just the three of them. “Are the pack coming round?” 

“Did I say you could stop?”

Stiles put the thought out of his mind and got on with the job. Until he heard the door to the loft open, and male voices, one of which was Peter’s. He looked up at Derek in alarm for instruction. “Just keep sucking. It’s not the pack. Peter is having a boys’ night.” 

A pool of dread welled in Stiles’ stomach. They wouldn’t hand him out to Peter’s friends, would they? Derek wouldn’t do that. Peter definitely wouldn’t do that. Derek looked down at Stiles and grinned. He pulled his cock out of Stiles’ mouth. “Enough. Take off your clothes. You’re the evening entertainment.” 

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again at the look of challenge on Derek’s face. Fine. If they wanted to hand him out like some kind of whore, so be it. A whore has value, and is useful, and wasn’t that what this was all about?

 

***

 

Derek had expected Stiles to protest, to give him an excuse to end this ridiculous charade they’d fallen into, but instead he stripped off, folding each item of clothing and placing it on one of the stools. When he was naked, Derek threw him a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms. “Peter’s friends are human,” he said as way of explanation. Stiles looked at the box in his hand and sighed. “Well, off you go. They aren’t going to fuck themselves.”

Derek watched as Stiles all but strutted into the other room, not believing for a moment the kid would go through with it, and watched in fascination as Peter began the introductions. 

“Stiles, this is Tom, Craig, and Mikey. Derek thought it would be a good idea to acquaint them with the many new skills I’ve taught you over the last few months.” Peter looked at Derek. He hadn’t wanted to do this, said it was wrong, an abuse of power or some such crap. But if the kid wanted to be _useful_ he could be useful. And for now, that meant ensuring Derek didn’t have to listen to another evening of Peter and his friends complaining about the lack of young talent in a fifty-mile radius. And all when Peter had talent on tap. It was a lesson for Peter and Stiles to give it up and allow Derek to get on with his life in peace. “Now you’re eighteen,” Peter continued, “Derek thought you should expand your activities.”

He saw Stiles take a deep breath, before turning to the men sat in a row along the couch. “How do you want me?” His voice cracked a little, but he looked determined. He wouldn’t though, he’d chicken out, and finally leave Derek alone.

“As long as you’re willing, who cares?” Tom said, and the others laughed. Tom already had his cock in his hand, and Stiles knelt before him and took it into his mouth. Derek could feel Peter’s disapproval burning at the sounds of satisfaction from Tom. Derek continued to watch, stunned into inaction by the fact Stiles was actually doing it. Mikey took off his pants and grabbed the lube, coating his fingers and pushing into Stiles’ body. Stiles flinched initially, and paused on his cock sucking when Mikey fucked into his body. 

Derek had to walk away. Unable to process what was happening. He’d been so sure Stiles would tell him where to stick his big-bad-attitude. That’s what he would have done before this started. Before Scott had turned Stiles into…whatever he was now. By the time Derek brought the food out, Stiles was being fucked by Tom. And that’s when he recognised he had a serious problem as far as Stiles was concerned. By how turned on he was that Stiles obviously wasn’t into the whole thing. When Tom pulled out and Craig took his place, Derek thought he would shoot a load right there, just from the look of distaste on Stiles’ face. It did something to him, to his wolf, he felt the change come over him. He was so hard, in fact, he had to fuck Stiles right now. He took out his cock, and made his way over. “Step aside,” Derek said to Craig. Craig wasn’t happy, but he stopped fucking and moved away. Derek pushed straight into Stiles’ slick, abused hole.

“Why do you get to fuck him bareback?” Tom complained. “I hate using rubbers.”

Derek’s skin prickled, his wolf clawed to get out, and he felt the sharpness of his teeth, but he stilled, holding back the shift and turned on Tom who swallowed nervously. “Because,” Derek barely recognised his own voice, “he belongs to _me_ , and because you should respect someone else’s property when they loan it to you to use.”

“Um, okay. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

Derek finished off, leaving Stiles on his knees, and walked away, though he couldn’t help but watch from the shadows. It was another hour before they had finished with him, a steady tag team of fucking and sucking, and Stiles’ was obviously sore. It hadn’t escaped Derek’s notice that Peter didn’t touch him. Instead, he ushered his friends out of the loft and returned to carry Stiles to the bathroom. Derek could feel Peter’s judgment through the walls and the nerve of it made Derek so angry he had to go for a run. He should stop it. Stop it all. Stop Peter and Stiles. Stop Stiles coming around every other day. Yeah, he should definitely stop. 

 

***

 

Stiles wanted to cry. He was so fucking sore. Worse than the first time, and he felt dirty, sick to his stomach. Peter brushed over the crusted come on his face with a warm cloth and Stiles tried to hold back the tears. 

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said, over and over. “I should have stopped him.”

“No,” Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand as it passed over his cheek. “ _I_ should have stopped him. I could have.” 

“So why didn’t you?” 

Stiles let go of Peter’s hand and Peter continued washing him. “I…I’m not sure. I guess I’m too stupid to back down from a challenge.”

Peter dropped the cloth in Stiles’ lap. “I’ll run you a bath.”

“Where are they from?”

“What?”

“Your friends. Am I likely to run into them when I’m out with my dad?”

“Hard to say. They live a fair way away, but still in the county. He’s still their Sherriff.”

“Fuck.” Stiles let his head fall into his hands.

“Look, they wouldn’t say anything. They know I’d kill them. Besides, I made sure they didn’t know your name.”

Stiles thought back to whether Derek had used his name in front of them, but he couldn’t remember. Anyone who heard the name Stiles would probably be able to figure out it was short for Stilinski. He’d caused his dad enough trouble at work over the last few years without rumours flying around that his son was available on loan as a fuck toy for private gatherings.

They both sat in silence while the bath filled. Peter gave him a hand as he lowered himself into the water and started to sponge over Stiles’ back. “You don’t have to do it, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Keep fucking us. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but come on, Stiles, you’re worth so much more than this.”

Stiles scoffed. “Ah, see, that is where you are wrong. You know, before you two, I hadn’t had a single person interested in me. Oh, wait, I did once, but she was kidnapped and murdered before we could do anything more than kiss.” Stiles shuddered at the memory. “And you know, even she only wanted to use me because I was convenient.”

“But you’re smart, and funny, and…” Peter sighed. 

“And what? Fucking annoying?”

“Gorgeous, Stiles. You’re crazy good looking. I just don’t get it. The guys tonight, I’ve seen that look they had when they saw you walk through naked before. They couldn’t believe their fucking eyes.”

Stiles swished his hands through the water. Watched the ripples. “I get what you’re trying to do, Peter, but the reality is the only way I’ll ever get laid is by being a fuck toy for you and your twisted nephew.” Stiles sighed. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t stop him, tonight.” He looked up into Peter’s concerned face. “Because I’d rather that, than be alone again.”

Peter didn’t speak again until they were tucked up in bed. As always, he wrapped Stiles up as the little spoon, keeping a more respectful distance than usual. “I’ll tell you what, how about I prove to you how attractive you are?” Stiles laughed. “No, hear me out.”

“Come on then, let’s have it.”

“Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, I’ll take you shopping for some new clothes, and we’ll go to Jungle.”

“You want to dress me up and pimp me out, is that it?”

“Not pimp you out, god, Stiles, no. I want to take you dancing, and you can see for yourself how much attention you get without any input from me.”

Stiles was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m up for that kind of rejection, Peter,” he said quietly. “It’s bad enough that Derek only sees me as an object to be handed around.”

“Will you just trust me? I know you have no reason to, but I want to help you get out from under this and see your own worth and potential.” Peter took up a small circular motion with his fingertips over Stiles’ stomach. It was comforting, gentle. “Stiles, I was as bad as Derek originally. I just wanted to use you, fuck you whenever I wanted, have you do whatever I asked, but you’re worth so much more. I’m not proud of the way I’ve treated you, of the way I’ve allowed Derek to treat you, and manipulate me into helping him. Just…let me do this?”

“Fine, whatever. You’ve always been batshit crazy. No harm in reminding you of that, I guess. But it’s pack meeting tomorrow, so Jungle will have to wait.”

“We can go once the meeting is over. Can you take the day off school?”  
“Sure. Don’t think I’ll be in any fit state to sit down all day, anyways. But, hey, now I can say I’ve fucked five people, rather than two. That’s an achievement, right?”

Peter’s hand paused. “Not really, Stiles. Not when four of them weren’t of your choosing.”

“I know you believe that, but if I’d have said no, to you, or to those guys tonight, Derek would have let me walk away.”

“And I know you believe that, but I’m not so sure.” His hand started to move again, calming Stiles’ frayed nerves. “Either way, it’s an abuse of power to even put you in that situation, and I want to start making amends for my part in it. Even though I know I never can.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, Peter.” Fatigue washed over Stiles. A deep, bone-saturating ache, but he needed to put Peter right. “But you know, by the end of that first night, I actually liked fucking you, and I have every time since.”

“And Derek?”

Derek. What the fuck was going on with Derek? “That’s a little more complicated.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m beginning to realise I have some kind of humiliation kink when it comes to him.” Because he couldn’t deny how hard he’d been when he knew Derek was watching, and it had nothing to do with the sleazy guys fucking him. “Maybe it’s an alpha thing, I don’t know, but I like that he obviously hates that he wants to fuck me. I guess I’m as twisted as the pair of you. Maybe that’s why this works.” And it did work. As fucked up as it was, as awful as the evening had been initially, as terrifying as it was to realise he’d do whatever Derek wanted…it worked. And it wasn’t just to get to the good bits of being cuddled and looked after by Peter. Something deep inside him craved Derek’s attention like never before. It scared him, if he was honest, but it made him feel alive like nothing else. Yeah, he was totally fucked in the head. Just like Peter. Just like Derek. They were made for each other.


	5. Chapter 5

To say Stiles was all shopped out was an understatement. Peter was worse than Lydia. Peter had more money than Lydia. Stiles had no idea you could pay so much for a pair of jeans. But then they were in the city, in a high-end shopping district Stiles hadn’t even known existed until that morning. The stores—so many stores—delivered any purchases, so at least they weren’t weighed down with bags. “Stiles,” Peter called. “You have to have a pair of these.” He held up another pair of tight trousers that looked exactly like the other ten pairs of trousers and jeans they’d already bought.

“They look the same as the others.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “They are nothing like them. Try them on. These are the ones you need to wear tonight.”

“You said that about the last pair.”

“Those were for Jungle. These are for the meeting.”

Stiles obliged, taking the trousers and three shirts Peter had also picked out into the changing rooms. He had to admit the pants felt good. They looked better. Even he could appreciate the way his ass looked in the fitted fabric. “And these boots,” Peter added, handing a pair of leather boots to Stiles.

“They look kind of high. I’ll never get these trousers over them.”

“You wear the trousers tucked in, Stiles. Or folded short over them. It’s called fashion.”

Stiles sighed. He’d gone from fuck toy to dress-up-Ken overnight. Stiles looked himself over. With the new haircut Peter had pulled without an appointment from a top stylist, the new clothes, and the new boots, Stiles was no longer a geeky teenager with no style. He was hot. He was hot, and his confidence crept up a notch. “You know what?” Stiles looked at Peter and smiled. “I’d fuck me.”

Peter grinned. “And everyone else will want you too.”

 

It was late by the time they got back to Derek’s. The meeting was already underway, and Peter agreed to go in first and take the attention so that Stiles could slip in ten minutes later. He was nervous of his new look and if it wasn’t for Derek’s crazy possessiveness lately, he’d have skipped the meeting all together and gone straight to Jungle with Peter. 

There was some small talk and laughing as he slipped into the room and scouted around the edge of the seating to the kitchen. He felt eyes on him, but nobody said anything other than Derek, who grunted he was late. When he plucked up the courage to face everyone he wasn’t surprised to see Scott glaring at him, but he was surprised to see Isaac’s shy smile, and Erica’s smirk of approval. The meeting soon rounded up, and before he could hide out in Peter’s room Lydia stepped up to him. “You look good. Stiles.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Really good. I’m pleased for you.”

“Um, okay?”

“Did you want to come out with us for something to eat?”

“No, I uh, have plans already.”

Lydia smiled. “Good. Have fun.” She turned on her heel and was gone before Stiles could think much more about it.

Once the rest of the pack was gone Derek stalked towards him. “You look different.”

“I went shopping.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a kid, and kids have a tendency to grow.”

Derek looked him over and nodded. “You are getting taller. You smell good too.”

That was new. And almost a compliment. Maybe it was a compliment…from a wolf. He sniffed his shirt. “Huh, must be the new clothes.”

“Which you can take off, so I can fuck you.”

Stiles didn’t bother to argue. He stripped off, leaned over the back of the sofa just like that very first night, and allowed Derek to do whatever he wanted. When Derek had finished with him, he took a quick shower, dressed in the clothes Peter had picked out for him and joined Peter in the car for their outing.

“You didn’t have to let him fuck you.” Peter looked concerned rather than jealous, and Stiles sighed. 

“It was easier. I wanted to get out so we could go dancing. So I can prove you’re insane, remember? Besides, I get some kind of sick thrill out of being his fuck toy, and I’d rather not think too much about that right now.”

“Well, after tonight, you’ll see you have other options.”

Other options…“Just…don’t be too disappointed, okay? When this doesn’t go quite as planned.” Stiles folded his hands in his lap. “I can deal with Derek being pissed all the time, but I’ve kind of gotten used to you being nice to me.”

Peter squeezed his thigh. “Don’t worry, Stiles. I will still have my pervy old man crush on you.”

“Good,” Stiles looked at Peter, waited for his full attention, “because I’ve come to rely on it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “And, I think a therapist may be next on the shopping list.”

“Peter, I mean it. Even if…” Stiles could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’ll still want to be with you.” 

“Why don’t we see how the evening goes, and talk about it later?” It was a patient smile Peter gave, but Stiles would take it as a win.

“Okay. Operation Stilinski hot babe, is underway.”

Peter chuckled and pulled away from the lot.

 

Jungle was crazy busy, and the queue to get in snaked around the corner. “Let’s not bother,” Stiles said, pulling on Peter’s arm. “We can come another night when it isn’t so busy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Peter walked straight towards the security barrier. “And stop fidgeting. You look amazing.”

“Uh, hello, this is Stiles, remember. Fidgeting is my signature trait. At least I’ll have the misty haze of my friend whiskey to help me out.”

Peter pulled up a couple of feet short of the guards. “Oh, no, you don’t. I need you focused and aware of everything going on. I want you to remember what this feels like.”

“But…”

“No buts. You will take the under twenty-one stamp limiting you to soft drinks, or we turn around right now.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Stiles,” Peter sounded exasperated. “Promise me you won’t accept alcohol from strangers. You’re my responsibility tonight and I intend to drop you home as sober as you are going in. Got it?”

“Got it, dad.”

“Very funny.” Peter smirked. “We can discuss your daddy kink later.”

“I don’t have a daddy kink,” Stiles muttered. “Yet, anyways.”

 

The security guard unhooked the rope for Peter and Stiles to jump the queue without any questions. “Colour me impressed.” 

Peter glared over his shoulder at Stiles. “I do leave the house occasionally, Stiles.”

“Yeah, I thought you left your house to visit Derek’s house. Where do you live, anyway?”

Peter stopped in a sea of security in the foyer of the club and motioned to the desk. Stiles huffed. “You realise this ruins any chance I have of getting a drink here for the next year, right?”

“Good. Now off you go.”

“This is because you can’t get drunk, isn’t it?” Stiles begrudgingly approached the desk. “I’m not twenty-one,” he said to the guy behind the counter, and held out his hand. The guy gave him an appraising look and smiled before stamping his hand with a pacifier. Great. 

“Have fun,” the guy said. “And if you don’t, I get off at 1am.”

Hmm, the guy was hot. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bust after all. “I will keep that in mind.” The guy winked at him, and Stiles grinned. “Good start,” he said to Peter as they made their way into the club. Stiles headed for the bar, but Peter hooked his arm and dragged him straight to the dance floor. 

“I guess I don’t have to teach you to dance.” 

“Oh, I can dance.” Stiles grinned. He knew he could dance. Not that he’d had much opportunity, but as he’d discovered during his hedonistic interludes with Peter, there was rhythm in them there bones and given the looks he was getting just walking on to the dance floor, he was going to get a chance to show it off. 

Sure enough, within a few minutes of getting all up on Peter and his groove, Stiles was surrounded by willing hot bodies. There were a few older guys thrown in for good measure, probably thinking they had a chance because of Peter’s presence, though in reality, Peter was a hot commodity all his own. Stiles leaned back against one of his new friends, but it was Peter on his mind as he gyrated his hips. He glanced round but Peter was nowhere to be seen. Stiles stomached flipped. Peter wouldn’t leave him here, would he? He started to make his way off the dance floor and walked into a slab of muscle. He looked up and the guy gave a menacing smile. “Looking for me?”

“Uh, no, actually I was…”

“He was looking for me.” Peter slung an arm over Stiles’ shoulder. 

Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand. “I lost you for a minute there.”

The guy faltered. He was about to say something else, when Stiles felt the low growl rumble through Peter’s body and the guy was gone. “You’ll need to be careful about how you handle unwanted attention here. Some of these guys will have you on your knees in a back alley before you even think about saying no.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to drink?”

“Now you’re catching on.” Peter pulled him in close. “I need you to be safe, Stiles.”

“I get it now. No drinking, and maybe a refresher on the hand to hand combat training.”

“Now, let’s dance some more.” Peter turned him back towards the dancefloor.

 

Stiles was sweaty, exhausted, and stupidly horny by the time they made it back to the car, but he felt incredible. Part of him wanted to believe the only reason he’d been so popular was because he’d been with Peter, but it was hard to deny he’d received a lot of attention all of his own. 

“Come on, Peter.” Stiles pulled at Peter’s belt. “I can’t wait. I want you in me.”

Peter held Stiles at bay. “I’m not fucking you in the car, Stiles. Now sit down properly or I’ll drive you straight home.”

“We’re not going to my place?” Stiles may not have been drunk, but the heady buzz from discovering his own hotness had his mind spinning.

“Actually, I thought we’d go back to my place. If that’s okay with you.”

“Absolutely.” Stiles grinned. “Onward, my prince,” he said motioning forward with his arm. “Onward.”

Peter shook his head. “And you say I’m batshit crazy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After such a great night, and with Stiles feeling good about himself for the first time in a long time, he should have expected the pile of shit that descended on his bliss. Enter into the fray, oh, Sheriff Stilinski. It was times like these Stiles appreciated his over-active random brain that could supply a million excuses at the drop of hat. Thank you, oh gods of ADHD.

It was lunch time before Stiles made it home. He ached in all the best ways, the ways only Peter made him ache. Peter had lavished such care and attention throughout the night and the morning that Stiles had been reluctant to leave. That, and Peter’s place was amazing. Why he hung out at Derek’s at all was a mystery. Except of course, Stiles was usually at Derek’s. Maybe that would change now. Maybe Stiles would go to Peter’s instead. Though that wouldn't quench the growing need deep in Stiles' bones to be closer to Derek. Honestly, there were moments when he wanted to crawl inside him, mash their bodies together. Yeah, disturbing, and too much to think about after finding such a good place.

“Son.” 

Stiles jumped a mile. “Damn it, don’t sneak up on a guy like that, dad.”

“Where have you been all night?”

“I…I stayed at a friend’s.”

“And which friend would that be? Don’t even try to tell me it was Scott. I called him already.”

“Wow, really?” Anger surged through Stiles. His dad hadn’t paid him any attention in months. If he had he would know Scott didn’t care where Stiles was anymore, or with whom. He wondered whether Scott had said that, been honest enough to admit it.

“I was worried about you, son. You’re never here anymore. I barely see you and when I do you’re always on your way somewhere else.”

“Ditto. And if you’d really have cared where I was you could have called me.”

“I did. Three times.”

Stiles checked his phone. The battery had died. “I haven’t been to Scott’s for more than six months. He barely talks to me anymore. If you had paid any attention to my life you would have known that.”

“Stiles, I know I’m not about to win any father of the year awards, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry. Especially when one of my officers tells me he saw my son getting cosy with a man twice his age on the dancefloor of a gay club last night.”

“That’s what this sudden interest is all about?” Stiles clenched his fists, his temper spiralling. “You don’t get to ignore me for six months,” he shouted, “and still receive regular updates on my private life.”

“I’m your father. You live under my roof.”

“Yeah? Well, that can change. I can walk out of here right now and have a place to live.”

“With this guy? A man my age, Stiles?”

“Peter is not your age.” Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant to let his name slip. His dad’s face purpled.

“Peter? Peter Hale?”

“Yes. Peter Hale. And before you get on your high horse you should think about why Peter was at that club with me last night. You might wonder about why Peter wants anything to do with me at all.”

“If you aren’t sleeping with him, tell me. Make me understand.” The Sheriff huffed. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to…I don’t want to lose you Stiles.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that a little earlier. You weren’t there for me. Scott wasn’t there for me. I needed someone, okay.”

“Stiles…”

“No. You don’t get to step in and take over now I’ve sorted things out in my head, just because someone else has clued you in to me moving on with my life.”

“Sorted out what?” His dad’s exasperated tone took the edge off Stiles’ anger.

“That I’m gay, dad. I tried to tell you and you blew me off, made fun of me. Scott hates the sight of me, and Peter…”

“But, Stiles, he’s old enough to be your father.”

Stiles grasped at that idea and ran with it, grateful for his over-active brain in situations like these. “Exactly. Peter has been there to look out for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He lost his family in the fire. He should be a father, but he’s not anymore. He took me to Jungle last night to keep an eye on me. Keep me safe. He made sure I didn’t drink. Didn’t leave with anyone.”

“Steve said the dancing looked pretty intimate.”

Steve? The sneaky, tale-telling douche. “Peter made it look like we were together, so I wouldn’t get in to trouble. Not that you would care. I stayed at his place last night, and he’s just dropped me back.” Stiles looked at his feet. “He cares about me, dad. And I need that right now.”

“Okay then. Let’s get him on the phone and have him over for dinner.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. “What?”

“If he’s been taking care of the duties I should have been, then I want to talk to him, and thank him.”

“You want to thank him?” Stiles wanted to hurl.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t get away with taking you to a gay club, and I wouldn’t have a clue what pitfalls to tell you to watch out for in that world, son. But I do believe in giving credit where credit is due. So, get him on the phone.” Stiles waved his dead phone at his dad, and wasn’t that a blessing in disguise. His dad narrowed his eyes and really looked at Stiles. “Are those new clothes? Because if you’d told me you were gay while you were wearing that, I’d have been more inclined to believe it.”

“Stereotype much, do you?” The Sheriff just looked. “Fine. Peter may or may not have taken me shopping for a few things.”

“Is Peter gay? I thought he had a wife and family?”

“I don’t know if he’s gay, or bi, or whatever, but yes, he had a wife and child burned alive.”

The Sheriff frowned. “I’ve taken the rest of the weekend off work. I want him here for six on the dot. And Stiles, I’m sorry okay? For not seeing what was going on for you. I know I messed up, but please, don’t move out. It’s not long until you leave for college…I…will you stay?”

“Of course, I’ll stay, dad. God…” Stiles hugged his dad, and tried not to feel guilty about the lies, or about making his dad sit at the table and thank the guy who’d been fucking him for the best part of six months for being a surrogate father figure. Could things get anymore fucked up?

 

Why had Stiles ever considered things were as fucked up as they could already be? He watched his dad, deep in conversation with his forty-year old lover-cum-father figure, and just knew he was going to hell. Peter played the perfect caring older guy just looking out for Stiles. He was empathic and understanding to the Sheriff’s plight of being a single dad with a gay teenage son. 

“I have to ask you, though, Peter, as much as I appreciate what you’ve done for Stiles, I’m his father. I’m not comfortable with you buying him clothes and whatever else.”

“Look, John, I get it, I do, but put it this way. I have money. I have money, but I don’t have any heirs.”

“You have Derek.”

Peter waved off the comment. “Derek has his own money, and we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye these last few years.” Peter placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “I love Stiles like one of my own. Please, let me help him out financially. As I would have my daughter had she still been alive. It would mean a lot to me. I’m not trying to replace you, John, but at least allow Stiles to benefit from this situation.”

Well, that was new. A few grand on new clothes was one thing, but what exactly did Peter have in mind?

His dad’s attention narrowed in on Peter. “In what way, exactly?” he asked, picking the question right out of Stiles' head.

“I’d like to pay for Stiles to go to college.” Stiles dropped his fork with a clatter. Peter put up his hand before the Sheriff could say anything. “The money you’ve saved for him will mean he doesn’t have to work and can concentrate on his studies.” Oh, Peter was good. 

“I don’t know, Peter. Stiles doesn’t even know where he’s going yet.” His dad looked at him, giving him the opportunity to correct him. All he could do was shake his head. 

“We can talk to him about that. Help him with his applications. If it’s okay with you for me to help out, that is.”

“I guess it would be good for Stiles to have someone other than me to rely on. I don’t know what’s happened with Scott.”

“Yeah, that has been hard on Stiles. Scott is being a real pain. He’s turned most of Stiles’ friends against him. He’s been really lonely.”

“I had no idea.”

With the Sheriff thoroughly shamed and feeling indebted to Peter, they settled down to watch the game. All Stiles could think about was the way Peter had taken him apart the night before, licking into his hole, sucking his brain out through his cock. In the end he excused himself and went to his room. He hadn’t spent much time in his room lately, other than to rack up extra-credit so he could go to Derek’s. It was nice just to chill out. It also gave him time to consider the proposal he’d been given by the school when he called in to say he was taking the day off and what it really meant for him. It was possibly the one good thing to come from Scott’s betrayal. Stiles had earned enough credits to graduate a whole term early, almost a term and a half, in fact. And he’d taken it, there and then. So far, nobody knew. Not even Peter. The other thing no one knew…Stiles hadn’t applied to any colleges. He’d been too depressed, too full of self-loathing to write essays on what an incredible asset he would be to the various schools. How would he tell Peter the free ticket he’d just offered wasn’t worth anything?

“Stiles, Peter is heading home now,” his dad called up the stairs. 

Stiles skipped down the stairs and gave Peter a one-armed dad hug. “I’ll see you, Peter. Thanks again for last night.”

“You are very welcome, Stiles.” Peter turned to the Sheriff. “And thank you, John, for allowing me to be part of Stiles’ life.”

“I’m just glad Stiles had someone to turn to.”

They stood at the door and watched Peter drive away. His dad sighed. “That guy makes me feel old and out of shape. Did you see the muscle definition in his arms?”

 _Hell, yes, and I know what he can do with it._ “Uh, no dad, that’s gross. He’s like a hundred years old. And excuse me, but I thought I was the one who lusted after the male form. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

His dad smirked. “Just checking.” 

“Wrong. All kinds of wrong going on in your head.” And Stiles walked away.

 

He lasted an hour before he snuck out of the house and headed to Peter’s. Peter grinned as he leaned against the door frame. “I did good, right?”

“We are both going to hell.”

“I’m already there, Stiles. Already there.” He moved to let Stiles into the apartment. “Now I can drop by and pick you up without having to hide down the street. You know we should really think about getting you a new car.”

Stiles threw himself on the couch. “Don’t mess with the jeep, she’s my girl.”

“Hungry?”

“Always.” But Stiles pulled Peter on to the couch with him. “You know you don’t have to buy my affection, don’t you?”

“I know. But part of what I said to your dad was true. I should be making plans for my daughter. She would be a few years younger than you, but even so.”

“Not to be crude, but I don’t think you’d be fucking your daughter, Peter.”

“Uncalled for.”

“Sorry.”

Peter sighed. “I want to help you. I…you’ve helped me too these last few months. I’d lost my humanity, didn’t care what was right, didn’t think about whether anything I wanted to do was wrong. The way I’ve treated you…”

It was Stiles’ turn to sigh. “Let’s not go there again, Peter.”

“No, it’s important, Stiles. Derek is out of control with you, and I allowed that to happen. Encouraged it. I wanted him to be like me, and now he is…Derek was always good. It made me sick when we were younger. I’ve always wanted to make him miserable, to make him more like me. But that’s not how he should be, Stiles. I don’t know what to do to make it right. To both of you.”

“I’m not going to college, Peter.”

Peter sat up and stared down at Stiles. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t apply anywhere, and all the deadlines have passed.”

Peter smiled. “You don’t want to let a little thing like deadlines get in your way.”

“I’m serious. I’ll apply for next year.”

“Stiles, you tell me where you want to go to school, and I will get you in. How are your grades looking?”

“Good. I’ve taken early graduation.”

“Since when?”

“Yesterday. They offered it to me when I called in.”

Peter clapped his hands and laughed. “Why didn’t you say anything? We should celebrate.”

Stiles slid into a sitting position and stared at his fingernails. “I don’t feel much like celebrating. I’ve left school, Peter, and I don’t have a single friend who’ll miss me come Monday.”

“So we focus on the future. Where do you want to go to school?” Peter pulled Stiles to sit astride him and cupped his ass. “Berkeley, Yale, Harvard? Please don’t go to Harvard.”

“You’re actually serious.”

“Always. Look, I have connections, okay. Some schools are better equipped to deal with our kind.”

“Our kind? Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m not a wolf.”

“But you are special. You’re an emissary, Stiles, and a damned good one even with the little training you’ve had. And…”

“And?”

“There are other things going on with you. I don’t even know what, but since the Alpha pack, you’re different. Even your smell is different. I’m pretty sure that’s what has Derek so tied up in knots especially since he started fucking you. But we’re getting side-tracked. Human, emissary, whatever, you are still pack, agreed?”

“Agreed.” Stiles said slowly, still not sure where the conversation was going. 

“Well, a lot of the big colleges are in pack territories. For you to be safe while you’re there, you’ll need a temporary arrangement with the local pack.”

Interesting. He should have known that from his years of research. It was a big thing straying onto other packs territories without permission. Big, as in often deadly. “I never gave that a thought. Do the others know?”

“We’re talking about you now, Stiles. Let Derek worry about the others.”

“He’s already negotiating for them, isn’t he?” And wasn’t that just a fucking kick in the teeth. “Why hasn’t he asked me?”

Peter squeezed his ass. “Please focus. Now, what do you want to study, have you given it any thought?”

“Criminology, maybe, with some mythology thrown in. But I want to stay on the West Coast. I know I haven’t been getting on with my dad recently, but I still want to stay reasonably close. Within a day’s drive, anyways.”

“Have you looked at any of the programs on offer?”

“Not really. I didn’t see the point.”

“Okay, well from a practical point of view, the best options West Coast are CalTech, and Berkeley. Berkeley has by far the best support program for ‘gifted’ kids, and if I remember correctly they actually have extra curriculars for emissaries. At least they did when I went there.”

“You went to Berkeley?”

“I did indeed. We should take a road trip. Have a look at the options. You can meet the various contacts and see who you get on best with.”

Well, wasn’t life just full of surprises these days. “Okay. I guess I have a lot of free time now. We could go one day this week.”

“That settles it. I’ll make some calls. Now, are you really hungry? I could fix you something.”

Stiles rocked his hips, grinding onto Peter’s hardening cock. “Mmm, only hungry for you.” He kissed over Peter’s neck.

Peter gasped lightly as Stiles nibbled and nipped over his skin. “I can definitely work with that.”


	7. Chapter 7

CalTech was nothing like Stiles imagined, and it was wrong somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like the air was off, like the campus itself was offended by Stiles’ presence. It reminded him of the feeling he got from Scott these days, like Stiles was contaminating the world just by existing. 

“I don’t like it here,” he said to Peter as they walked along the path to the reception. 

“You sure you know that already?” Peter looked concerned, checking around, though for what, Stiles wasn’t sure. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Stiles said. He tripped on the step leading up to the double doors. “See, even the ground here hates me.”

“Do you still want to look around?” Peter smirked. “I don’t want to have to swing by the emergency room on our way out.”

“Har-de-har-har. I’ll still look round. It’ll be good to have something for comparison.”

The tour was interesting, but there was nothing outstanding enough to tip the scales towards considering it in earnest. Stiles waited outside the library while Peter caught up with the supernatural liaison. Yeah, that was so weird. Every time he snatched a glance at Peter, Peter would smile, and Stiles wondered when their ‘thing’ had turned into more of a relationship than a convenience. 

“Hey, is that your dad?” Stiles spun around to see a gorgeous redhead, not unlike Lydia, and a couple of her perfect friends, with perfect skin, and perfect hair, and god, that smile. Before Stiles could answer, she continued. “Because he is hot.” They all laughed. 

“Maybe he’s lonely,” one of the other girls said. 

“Oh, tell me your mom isn’t in the picture anymore.”

“Can you introduce me?” another one said. “I bet he’s great in bed with a body like that.”

Stiles bristled. “Actually, my mom’s dead.” The girls didn’t even flinch. No remorse at all. “And, yes, my dad is lonely, but that,” he pointed at Peter, “isn’t him. That is my hot sugar daddy, and you’re right, his body is divine, and he is absolutely scorching in bed, thank you.” The redhead’s face twisted in disgust. “Ah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the double standards here. Seems to sum up my experience so far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, it’s okay for you to hit on what you think is my dad, wish my mom was dead,” Stiles counted the points off on his fingers. “Oh, and want to fuck him even though he’d presumably be old enough to you dad too, but it’s not okay for me to be dating an older guy?” 

The girl turned to her friends. “What a loser. Let’s go.” Stiles watched them leave, seething at the fucking nerve. Definitely not the kind of place he wanted to spend four years of his life.

A familiar hand slipped around Stiles’ waist. “Is that what we’re doing, Stiles, dating?”

Stiles twisted in Peters arms and kissed him. “Well, not really. More like fucking, with you paying for everything. But I do have a soft spot for you.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I was hoping it was a really hard spot we could use to our advantage.”

“Wow.” Stiles pulled back and looked Peter over. “You are cheesier even than me, and that’s saying something.”

“I aim to please.” They kissed a little more, and it was nice, not worrying who saw them. “We should head back. I guess CalTech isn’t for you.”

“Nope. You know, my dad is going to be pissed when he realises we’re taking these tours without him.”

They ambled along the path towards the parking lot, and Stiles liked the way Peter kept an arm around Stiles’ waist. “I don’t think he would be impressed with the supernatural sales pitch from the liaisons. How about I come to dinner at the weekend and I’ll bring an inordinately expensive bottle of scotch to help the news go down?”

Stiles chuckled. “That could work.” There wasn’t much you couldn’t smooth over with his dad when you were holding a good bottle of scotch. “Or, I can do the tour of the school I choose over again with him, say I wanted to just give him the highlights.”

“That sounds like a better idea, I’m not sure how many dinners I’ll manage before I slip up and say something inappropriate.” He pulled Stiles closer, tucking him under his arm. “You know we could stay over tonight. Book into a hotel, go for dinner.”

Stiles slipped his hand over Peter’s ass and squeezed. “I’d like that, sugarplum. I’d like that a lot.”

 

Having regular sex with a hedonist was much like training for a marathon. It was an exercise in extreme endurance, and every muscle received a complete work out. Stiles enjoyed his private time with Peter much more than the stolen moments at Derek’s where if Derek thought they were enjoying themselves too much he’d drag Stiles away to fuck him caveman stile to break the heady build up of pleasure Peter was so good at creating. Not only that, but away from Derek, Stiles got to fuck Peter. His first experience at turning the tables, and lordy, was that a pleasure. The tight heat, and responsiveness of Peter’s chiselled body, the way his muscles rippled and tensed with Stiles inside him. It was pure art, pure ecstasy, and it always threw Stiles through a loop of sexual overload. He didn’t like to boast, and his experience was still limited in terms of numbers, but fucking Peter was quickly turning Stiles into a sex-god of epic proportions. He was looking forward to testing that theory in the very near future. After all, he couldn’t play sex toy to the Hales forever, and with college now a real possibility it was time for Stiles to consider branching out alone. Not that he’d stop fucking Peter, oh no. You didn’t give up something so exquisite if you didn’t have to. And Derek…well, Stiles still wasn’t ready to look too much into that can of worms, because, yeah…there were strange things afoot.

Stiles grabbed at Peter’s shoulder drilling into him harder, and deeper, relishing the soft sounds falling from Peter’s lips, and the way he thrust back against Stiles wanting more. He reached for Peter’s cock, but Peter batted his hand away. “Not yet.”

“Peter, I can’t…I’m almost…” He tried to slow his movements, stretch it out until Peter was ready, but Peter kept up the pace, hammering onto Stiles’ cock and it was too much, his hips jerked, his climax washing over him as he tried to keep thrusting, keep moving, and then Peer was coming, clamping down around his cock, and milking the last drops of come. 

Stiles collapsed over Peter’s back, and Peter lowered them both to the bed. “God, you are so…”

Peter laughed, flipping them both without dumping Stiles on the floor, and diving in for an uncoordinated, sloppy kiss. “I do like to keep you entertained,” he said, following up with kisses over Stiles’ neck and shoulders, and down over his chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles grabbed Peter’s hair and brought him back to face him. “I surrender, rest break required.”

“Ah, the young these days,” Peter complained. “No stamina.”

Stiles slapped Peter’s ass, making him jump. “I’ll give you no stamina. My, god, we’ve been at it for hours. I’m sweaty and dehydrated. Give a kid a break.”

“Room service it is then. Champagne for me, water for you. Food?”

“Yes. Definitely yes. And at least make it sparkling water. And protein. Plenty of protein, I swear my body is eating its own muscle trying to keep up with you.”

“Anything else?”

Stiles yawned. “Maybe in an hour.” As he closed his eyes, he could hear Peter’s light chuckle, and he smiled before drifting off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm keeping the chapters short and choppy because I feel it suits the fic, just in case you're wondering. 
> 
> I love all the comments you guys are giving :) Thank you, so much.  
> Disclaimer: I should have said this earlier, but...I'm British. As such, I know absolutely nothing about US colleges, schools, or term times. Please forgive any discrepancies. :P
> 
> ....and here comes the start of the supernatural.

Stepping out of the car at Berkeley, Stiles felt at home immediately. There was a slight charge to the air, full of magic and mystery teasing the spark inside him and energising his entire being. 

“This is it.” He turned to Peter, not hiding his excitement. “I love it.”

“You haven’t even gotten to the door.”

“I don’t care. This place is amazing. I want to start tomorrow.”

“That won’t be possible, but let’s have a look around.”

Stiles almost bounced towards the door. Everything felt so right it was weird. Freaky weird in the very best way. If this was how he was going to feel every day at college he’d never leave. God, if he’d known a year ago there were places in the world he could feel this way, he’d have packed his bags and jumped on a bus never to look back. Stiles paused next to a large bushy plant thing and cupped a hand below one of the branches. It glowed gently and dipped to touch the palm of his hand sending a trickle of energy along his arm. “Well, hello there.” The bush bobbed up and down a few more times. “Amazing.” 

“Hey, Stilinski.”

Stiles spun around and saw a guy waving at him. They met half way as Stiles tried to place him.

“It is you,” the guy said, smiling. “It’s Connor. I was a couple of years ahead of you at Beacon Hills.”

“Connor Mason,” Stiles finished. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Good. You on a tour?”

“Yeah, I was thinking this might be a good fit.”

Connor beamed. “Oh, it’s a great school, man. Everything you could need. There are only a couple of other people here from Beacon Hills. The cool kids though, not the knuckle heads.”

And wasn’t that good to know. “You were always nice to me and Scott.”

“Of course, man. How is McCall?”

“We don’t really hang around much now.”

“Yeah, that happens. Well, don’t you worry. I’ll hook you up with the best parties, the best girls,” he gave Stiles the once over, “or dudes, whatever, you know?”

Stiles laughed. “That obvious huh?”

“Not at all man. Not here anyway, but a senior in high school at Beacon Hills decked out like you?” He grinned. “Yeah, maybe a little.” Connor glanced over at Peter. “That is _not_ the Sheriff.” 

“Nah, that’s Peter. He’s a good friend.”

Conner shoved at Stiles’ shoulder. “I bet, you old dog.” Connor handed Stiles his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll get in touch at the start of the year, introduce you around.”

Stiles tapped in his number and sent a text to his phone so he’d have Connor’s number too. “Thanks, man. It’ll be good to know someone.” He handed back the phone. 

“Great. See you around.” He walked backwards away from Stiles, pointed both hands at him. “Stay safe, buddy. See you soon.”

Stiles waved, and headed back to Peter. “That’s a good start. I really liked that guy in school. He was the one who encouraged me and Scott to stick it out with the lacrosse team.”

“Liked him, or _liked_ him?” Peter waggled his brows.

“Just regular, liked him.”

“This, this is good, Stiles. Really good. Let’s see what else we can find.”

 

The main tour concluded with Stiles buzzing excitedly and absolutely one hundred percent sure Berkeley was his new school. Peter didn’t hide his pleasure that Stiles would be going to his old hunting ground. “I loved it here,” he said, sweeping a hand over Stiles’ hair. “It’s one of the few times I was truly happy.”

“Your marriage, surely?”

Peter gave a sad smile. “I loved my wife, but we didn’t always see eye-to-eye. She was from a Southern pack, and the Hales…well, we were a little too open-minded for her.” Stiles frowned. “Too many human pack members,” he added as way of explanation. “She thought the human kids would be a bad influence on our daughter growing up.”

“Human kids a bad influence on a girl who could tear them limb from limb?” They started to wander across campus, Peter guiding them.

“You know kids, Stiles. They get to a certain age and start experimenting with drink, drugs, sex. She didn’t want our daughter to see that and feel…less, or like she was left out, I suppose. Not that she would have wanted her to get involved in that stuff even if she could get high or get drunk.”

“Were there many human kids in the family?”

“A little less than half, so…five, six, maybe.”

“I didn’t realise so many died in the fire. The house wasn’t that big.”

“Yeah, well, the attack was well planned. We were having a family party. If you know where to look, you realise the burned-out skeleton of the Hale house you know is not the only abandoned property in Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles felt sick to his stomach. He slipped his hand into Peter’s. “I’m so sorry, Peter.”

Peter squeezed his hand. “Let’s not dwell. We’re here for you, after all.”

They’d arrived at a lesser travelled wing of one of the older buildings onsite for the meeting with their liaison. The guy stepped out of his office as soon as they turned the corner of the hall. “Peter,” he called. “It’s been too long, old friend.”

“He’s a wolf?” Stiles asked.

“Actually, I’m an emissary,” the guy said, extending his hand to Stiles as they arrived in front of him. He was probably older than Peter by a few years. Tall, commanding, with piercing green eyes, cropped blond hair, and a bright smile. “I was trained in the arts as a child. After the first thirty or so years you develop the same heightened senses of smell, and hearing, just without the teeth.”

Stiles took his hand, but the guy didn’t shake just held it. “And the super healing powers?” 

“I do have those too, though it doesn’t kick in as quickly as it does for the wolves and it takes a little longer. Hours rather than minutes, days rather than hours. By the time you leave us, we should have you started along that path too.” He closed his other hand over the one he was already holding. Even with the gleam in his eye, Stiles was strangely comfortable. “I’m Jack Warner. I’ll be your liaison.” He squeezed Stiles’ hand before letting go. “And you need no introduction at all.”

“I don’t?”

“Stiles Stilinski. Emissary of the Hale Pack—a rare and beautiful creature—and a human…”

“Yes, well,” Peter interrupted. “Shall we show Stiles the dorm rooms?”

“Of course.” Jack looked intrigued at Peter’s deflection but didn’t press the issue. Stiles wanted to kick Peter in the shin for stopping him short. ‘And a human…’—a human what, damn it! “All our students have private rooms on campus in an isolated block but we work as a tightknit family here, so anything, any problems, or concerns, there will always be somebody on call.” 

Stiles followed Jack and Peter, zoning out on their catch-up talk, and tuning in again when Jack mentioned something about the school. It wasn’t long before they arrived outside an aging pale blue door with a faded painting of a herb Stiles didn’t recognise. Jack smiled. “It’s _Panax quinquefolius_ ,” he said, tapping the door. “More commonly known as Ginseng. Good for relieving anxiety and preventing mental and physical fatigue. The essence is infused into the door itself.” He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially into Stiles’ ear, “I’m sure it will be a long time before you need to think about what else it can do for you.” He stepped back and winked, grinning at Peter. “And it hides an example of a student room.” Jack opened the door for Stiles to step inside. His jaw dropped. 

“Seriously?” He looked at Peter, who just grinned. “This is…it’s almost as big as the loft.”

“We find space is the best thing we can offer our students. It’s not just wolves and emissaries you’ll be bunking with in this building, and some of our guests can be solitary creatures. Others are just…loud.”

“Right.” Stiles took in the high ceilings, the rough brick… “Is that a private bathroom?” It banished all his fears of communal showers, shared rooms, and tripping over piles of books because he didn’t have enough space.

“Yes, and you’ll have a small kitchen space. Though there is a shared dining hall, and a handful of communal rooms downstairs.”

His own kitchen. His own _freaking_ kitchen. “Peter said you had extra curriculars.”

“I run sessions for emissaries. I find different packs have different strengths, so as students you share your own talents and experiences as much as learn from me. And you, well, it will be an honour to work with you.”

“Okay, then,” Stiles said, looking at Peter for clues. “I’m not sure what I’ll have to share other than my many charms.”

“You’re certainly the first of your kind we’ve had here in my time.”

Stiles was about to ask what the hell he was talking about when Peter stepped in front of him. “Well, it’s been great, Jack.” Peter steered Jack away from Stiles. “We’re going to hang out here for a while and have a chat. I’ll call you.”

Jack peered around Peter’s shoulder and smiled. “It was great to meet you, Stiles. I look forward to working with you.”

“Thanks, Jack. I can’t wait to start.”

They waited in silence until Jack was out of ear shot. Stiles could feel the tension radiating off Peter’s body. “Stiles…”

“Don’t you Stiles me.” He poked Peter in the chest so hard he nearly broke his finger. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s nothing, I…”

“You are going to damn well tell me why I’m having a Harry Potter moment, or I swear I will start withholding privileges.”

Peter smirked. “Stiles, if you’re going to threaten someone, at least do it with something that’s believable.”

“Come on, Peter,” he whined. “I’m a human what? Just tell me.”

Peter huffed. “I can’t.”

Stiles bristled. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I _can’t_. You’re the Hale Pack emissary. Only the Alpha can tell you.”

“And I suppose he won’t.” Why would he? Getting any kind of information out of Derek was like pulling teeth. Pulling werewolf teeth, which Stiles guessed was infinitely more difficult than ordinary human teeth. It had taken Stiles a year to prise out of Derek how he liked his coffee, as though the entire world would crumble if too many people realised Derek Hale had a sweet tooth. Stiles would be old and grey before Derek divulged anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary to basic survival. He looked at Peter, and for the first time he wished it was Peter who was the Alpha. The thought sent a shiver through him, and his heart felt bruised. No, even now, even with Derek being a colossal prick, Stiles still wanted him as Alpha…needed him as Alpha. He was so, totally screwed.

Peter sighed, and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a coffee. I’ll tell you as much as I can, but I warn you…it’s not much.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've slightly reworked the Alpha pack backstory to give Stiles a more prominent role in their 'take-down'.

They stayed in the ‘supernatural’ dining hall and settled down on a comfy sofa with surprisingly good coffee. Stiles was restless and fidgety, burning to understand more of what was going on, of who he was, of _what_ he was. It was hard to reconcile that Derek had sensitive information about Stiles, that Stiles couldn’t even begin to guess at. He was the researcher, after all, if anyone should now the unusual stuff it should be him. Derek did have ‘supernatural creature at birth’ card on his side, but even so. And if he was honest, the whole ‘we’ve never had one of your kind’ thing Jack had sprung on him was…, well, freaking him out. He sipped his coffee, waiting, but Peter just stared into his mug. 

“Peter, it’s time for you to talk now.”

Peter put his mug down. He looked like he was about to throw up, and for Peter…yeah, that was serious. “Derek doesn’t want to tell you. And before you start getting ideas about how he is with you at the moment, that’s not it.”

His tone was unusually defensive of Derek, which caught Stiles off guard. “Okay, so what is it?”

“He thinks you’re too young.” Peter raised his hand to stop Stiles’ rant. “Not too immature, Stiles. He knows you could handle it, he just doesn’t think you should have to. Yet.”

“I’ve already dealt with some pretty serious shit, Peter. Supernatural and otherwise.” He left the ‘and I’m sick to the back teeth of people thinking they know what’s best for me when they don’t even know me’ unsaid. For now. 

“And that’s why he thinks you should have a break, to be a normal kid for a few years.”

“Normal?” It came out louder than he intended. “What the hell is there about me or my life that could ever be classed as normal? For fuck’s sake, Peter, give me a break already.”

“He thinks…and he really has struggled with this, Stiles…but he thinks you have enough going on.” Stiles went to speak—okay, rant—but Peter put a finger over his lips. “I’ve questioned him over and over, and I promise you his decision isn’t based on any of this obsessive crap he has going on. Despite everything, he can still compartmentalise. He just really wants you to live your life as is without the extra complications.”

Complications. Fucking complications. What the hell did Derek, or even Peter for that matter, know about any of the complications Stiles had going on, or how many of said complications he could deal with at any one time. Compli-fucking-cations. “Because I’m a human… _something_.”

“Actually, that’s kind of something else. And then there’s even more confusing stuff for Derek right now that’s fucking up his head where you’re concerned, and I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s so freaky with you.”

Derek was freaky with him. He’d always been freaky with him, but more so since they’d started fucking. But then Stiles was pretty damned freaky when it came to Derek too. It’s why he’d begged Derek to fuck him in the first place. There was something…he didn’t even know, just _something_ driving every interaction they had. Even the less than stellar ones, which let’s face it, was all they seemed to have these days. If there was a reason, some supernatural mojo going on that could help explain it…well, Stiles wanted to know. Maybe. Kinda. Okay, perhaps that should stay on the back burner, because there was freaky, and then there was him and Derek. But the stuff to do with him personally, that he wanted to know, and he wanted to know now. 

Stiles looked at Peter, really looked. There was a resolve about him, Stiles hadn’t seen before. A determination in the set of his shoulders, an odd distance in his body language that told Stiles no amount of cajoling or sexual favours would get him to talk. “Give me a clue at least. Why does Jack think I’m so damned special?”

Peter sipped his coffee and glanced up at Stiles. “That would be because you are.” Stiles huffed. “Okay, look,” Peter shuffled around to face him, “you know you’re an emissary, right? Deaton has been helping you with the basics and that helped us defeat the Alpha pack back last year.”

“Oh, yeah, that was _so_ impressive. I managed to magically connect a ring of mountain ash.”

“And you separated the twins. And brought down Ennis long enough for Scott to finish him…”

“And beat Kali to death with a baseball bat, I remember. Hardly legendary stuff.”

Peter scoffed. “You were sixteen. You beat an Alpha werewolf to death with a baseball bat.” He drew out the sentence as though Stiles was hard of hearing.

Why was Peter being so frustrating? He knew about this stuff. “It was a _mountain ash_ baseball bat infused with _Mistletoe_ and engraved with _Runes_.”

Peter sighed and took a breath as though he was the one struggling to make someone understand. “Okay, let’s talk about your bat for a moment. Tell me about the runes.”

The runes. It’d taken forever to carve them deep enough into the wood to take, and then every single one had needed to be activated individually to get the feel Stiles was going for. It was days in the making and he was super proud of it. But Peter knew about runes. He probably knew more about them, about their origins, than Stiles. “The runes enhance the power of the mistletoe, slow down healing for the one being hit with it…”

“So, what’s to stop someone else picking it up,” he interrupted, “and say, beating Derek with it?”

“Oh, it’s coded to me.” He’d worked the rune activations with small droplets of his own blood to create a DNA security feature. Kind of cool, if he did say so himself. “The runes are kind of fingerprint coded so they only activate when I’m holding the bat…and am conscious,” he added. “I also programmed them not to work on Hale pack wolves.” That had been harder to achieve. He’d sneaked random hairs off the wolves’ clothes and glued them into a carved protection rune at the base of the bat. He hadn’t been able to test it, but it didn’t matter, because he just knew it would work. Stiles sipped his coffee. “I’m just hoping that one isn’t going to backfire if I need to kick one of your assess with it.” He’d happily use it on Scott at the moment, so it was a good thing he couldn’t physically hurt him with it.

“And why did you do that?”

Stiles huffed. “It’s a dangerous weapon. I can’t risk a hunter picking it up in a fight and using it on you guys. God, give me a little credit.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Peter said, his exasperation more than apparent. “Even if they did, even if the runes were permanently active—which they should be, but that’s something else entirely—a human may be able to incapacitate a wolf for a few minutes, but they wouldn’t be able to _kill_ them with it. Not with a bat, Stiles. Not even a mountain ash bat. And definitely not an Alpha with Kali’s power.”

“But…”

“But nothing. What you did should be impossible. Even for a powerful emissary. Jack couldn’t have done it.”

“The runes?”

“Okay, I am seriously starting to doubt Deaton’s abilities as a trainer, here. Once runes are activated, they’re active. If you want to deactivate them you go through the same ritual. I’ve never heard of touch activated runes, and certainly not coded to a particular person. I didn’t even know it was possible. I bet Jack doesn’t even know that’s possible.”

Well, fuck. Stiles stared at Peter, struggling to comprehend the information. If, Jack, an emissary who could heal, hear and smell the same as the wolves did didn’t know runes could be used that way, then how had gawky, winging-it, sixteen-year-old Stiles? “Deaton never said anything when I explained what I was doing.” Though Stiles did remember him being uncharacteristically quiet through the process. Maybe he was some kind of secret rune whisperer. “Is there any way I can find out this… _thing_ , without Derek telling me?”

Peter shrugged. “You could do what you do best.”

“Research. But where? I’ve never come across anything to even suggest there are different types of emissary, or human...whatevers.”

Peter smiled. “The library here is extensive.”

Right. The library, full of super-supernatural books you’d probably never find anywhere else. And he was already here. “Okay,” he said, formulating a plan in his head. “Why don’t you go do what you usually do when you aren’t with me for a couple of hours…what is that by the way?”

“Shopping, usually. Or fucking. Or catching up on sleep.”

“Right, so, you go do that and I’ll hit the books. I guess the special library is around here somewhere?”

“It’s just through there,” Peter pointed to a doorway on the opposite side of the room. “You won’t find out everything, but maybe a few things.” He kissed Stiles on the cheek. “Enough to get you started.”

Stiles felt like Harry Potter again, with access to the restricted section of Hogwarts library, or an intrepid adventurer off to discover brave new worlds as he bid Peter adieu, and stepped through the doorway to his future.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artist license invoked in order to - _make shit up that makes sense to me and sounds pretty to my jaded ears_ \- enjoy ....  
>  ;P

Two and half hours later, Stiles was startled by the sound of his phone. He’d been staring into space for the best part of twenty minutes. “Hey, Peter.”

“How’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s gone.”

“We should be heading back shortly if you want to be home for tea with your dad. Shall I swing by and pick you up?”

“Sure. I’ll meet you outside.”

Stiles closed the book in front of him, stacked it with the others on the table and put them away. His hands zinged from the magic in the books, and it was difficult to pull himself out of the library and back into the real world. He could happily lose days in this place sucking the shared wisdom and knowledge of the ancestors—his ancestors, he was now beginning to realise—out of the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. He’d need a lifetime to understand even a fraction of the contents, several even. A chill ran up his spine, not foreboding, but energising, as though the very pages of information were responding to his thoughts and unasked questions. As difficult as it was to admit, Derek had been right. He should have given himself time to live a normal kid life—however fucked up and kinked it was turning out to be. He should have embraced his own ignorance and allowed his instincts to carry him through, because some knowledge—this knowledge—was too big for his eighteen-year-old brain to process with so much other crap going on at the same time. He sighed. As usual, he’d have to live with the consequences of his own impulsiveness and impatience. He took one last look around the room he was sure would become his second home over the four years he’d be here, thanked the books for guiding and helping him, and acknowledged the ethereal glow over those still calling for his attention. “I’ll be back soon,” he said almost under his breath. “I promise.” A shimmer of golden light swept around the shelves and was gone, so he turned and walked away.

Peter was waiting for him outside of the main building. He took one look at Stiles and pulled him into a hug. “I can see you found enough.” Stiles nodded. “You want to talk about it?”

“Where did it come from?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you found, and I’ll try to fill in any gaps.” 

Once settled in the car for the long journey back, Stiles took the deep breath needed to share what he’d discovered about himself. The knowledge that would change him forever and make him rethink everything he thought he knew. “I’m an elemental emissary.” Stiles voice was barely more than a whisper as he tried on his new title for the first time out loud.

“Go on…”

“It’s the rarest kind. Once in their full power they have command of the elements and can incorporate that power into the more mundane forms of magic.”

“Like the bat.” It was almost a question, and Stiles glanced at Peter, but his eyes were on the road.

“Like the bat,” he confirmed. “I was able to beat Kali to death because the wood of the bat took on my rage, the mistletoe seeped out of the bat and into her body at my will, and the mountain ash became a prison she couldn’t escape preventing her from fighting it.” He let that information sit between them for a moment. Allowed Peter to properly digest what he’d said. When Peter squeezed his thigh, he continued. “The runes activate by my touch because I commanded them to do so. They are essentially a language between emissary and the elementals. When using them, the emissary is asking permission for the elementals to undertake whatever the runes pertain to, but I already have the power of the elementals, so the runes are my language and do my bidding automatically.”

“See, I didn’t know that, Stiles.” Peter was impressed. Stiles wasn’t sure how long that would continue. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Stiles sighed. If Peter was going to leave him when he found out the truth, Stiles may as well get it over with. “I was able to take down Ennis because I filled his lungs with water so he couldn’t breathe. I separated the twins because in my mind I reached into their body and ripped their bones apart. I used the circle of mountain ash around Jennifer Blake as a prison and removed the air so she couldn’t protect herself, then opened a doorway for Scott to break through.”

“I knew that was you.” Peter sounded excited. Stiles felt numb. “True Alpha my ass, I knew he had to have had help for that little trick.” Stiles stayed quiet. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

Stiles shook his head. “Neither did I until today. I was thinking these things at the time, but I didn’t realise I was making them happen. And with you,” Stiles paused. This would be the defining moment that ended the fling Stiles had become so reliant on. “The first time we killed you, with the Molotov cocktail. I saw the fire as all consuming, as paralysing.”

“You know, I did wonder,” Peter said so matter-of-factly, Stiles doubted he’d understood what he’d just told him. “Once I’d come back that is, why I hadn’t been able to run before Jackson threw the second bottle. What else were you thinking? Because I really shouldn’t have been able to come back at all.”

Stiles stared at his hands in his lap. He couldn’t lie, not to Peter. Not about this. “I wanted to banish you to an eternity of torment because death was too good for you.”

Peter snorted. “That’s why I’m still alive.” He leaned over to kiss Stiles’ cheek. “Stiles, you saved my life as you killed me. That’s pretty impressive considering you had no idea of your powers at the time. And if that doesn’t convince you how special you are, I’m not sure anything can.”

“Am I dangerous?”

Peter gave him a long look. Too long given he was driving. “Hey, come on, Stiles. This is a good thing. You’re finding yourself.”

“Am…I…dangerous?” 

“So far, I’d say the evidence suggests only to those who threaten your loved ones. Stiles, you have a gift. You just need some training.”

Stiles scoffed. Need some training, indeed. And how was he going to get training for powers so rare they hadn’t been seen in the US for practically half a century? “That’s why Derek didn’t want me to know, isn’t it? He knew I’d be too worried about hurting people. Afraid to even think.”

“Yes. But you won’t.” Peter stroked Stiles thigh. “You won’t.” Stiles liked how Peter was so sure, had so much faith in him. “Did you find anything else?”

Oh, yeah, there was more. “Elementals take on aspects of those they harm. It strengthens them. Changes them.”

Peter’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “So…”

“I killed Kali.” Peter’s look urged him to complete the thought. “I’m a human Alpha. Once activated, I’ll have all the traits of an Alpha werewolf. Including increased strength, and coupled with my skills as an elemental emissary, the power to command other wolves, and potentially other supernatural creatures.” 

Peter smiled, but then nodded and sighed. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. It’s a huge burden for someone your age. Especially with our pack being so fragmented and…odd.”

Odd was certainly one way of putting it. “It’s why I was so desperately lonely. Why the pack shunning me hurt so much. I haven’t tapped into the potential, can’t without guidance from my Alpha, not without his permission.” He blinked away the tears forming and tried to pull himself together. “Once that happens, I’ll also have the strength of Ennis, the Darach powers of Jennifer Blake, and who the hell knows from the twins.” He waited until Peter looked back at him. “What did I get from you, Peter?”

“How about my charm and love of sex?” Peter winked, and Stiles managed a small laugh. “You should tell Derek you figured out the emissary stuff, he can help you activate your true potential, but don’t tell him you figured out your Alpha status. He’s freaked out enough having Scott as a second Alpha without the Hale pack having three of you.”

“There’s something else though, isn’t there?”

“Stiles, he’ll tell you, when the time is right. He has stuff of his own to take care of first.”

Stiles nodded. He had enough of his own stuff going on too. Human Alpha. Elemental emissary. And after today he trusted Derek’s judgement enough to accept there were some things he wasn’t ready to hear. He’d allow Derek carry that burden for him. 

They drove in silence for another twenty miles or so. Stiles needed the space to process the layers and intensity of the information he’d uncovered, and Peter looked as though he’d gone into a thought process of his own. But after a while, one question was burning brighter than the others. “Are we born, or made, Peter?”

“Elemental emissaries?” Stiles nodded. “My understanding is that you are grown in time of great need.”

“Grown?”

“Chosen. Picked out in a community as a seed with the greatest potential and shaped through life to become ambassadors for the power of the elementals in humans.”

“So, I am human?” Because, really, after everything he’d read, and deduced, he hadn’t been sure he qualified for that title anymore. 

Peter chuckled. “Yes, Stiles. You are very human. Rare, special, gifted, intoxicating…but very human.”

“Is Derek afraid of me? Afraid of what I could become?”

“In a way, but not because he doesn’t trust you. Even with all the weirdness between you two, he trusts you more than anyone. He’s afraid _for_ you, not _of_ you, if that makes sense.”

“I think…” Stiles wasn’t sure he could say the words out loud to convey what he was feeling. They were scary words. Dangerous words. Words he very soul seemed to want to fight. “I think maybe I should stay away from Derek for a while.” He felt sick. It was wrong. It felt so painful to even think it. “Give him some space to sort things out.” Give them both some space, even though the weight of the thought alone was already crushing him. But he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face Derek until he’d figured out some stuff, figured out what all this meant for him, and his place in the pack. Stiles wasn’t sure he was safe to be around given the power of his thoughts on supernatural creatures. He needed to sit with it, go back over every interaction with the wolves to see whether his own undisciplined mind had caused the crapstorm he’d faced with Scott and the others. Even he knew it was unlikely, but it was possible, and so he’d have to look honestly at himself, and his mouth. He gave Peter a sad smile. 

“Whatever you think is best, Stiles,” he said, patting Stiles’ knee. “It’s time to do what’s right for you.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Peter, have you seen Stiles lately?” Derek went for casual, even though what he really wanted to do was pin Peter to the wall and demand to know what was going on, and if he’d stolen Stiles away from him.

“Not for a few days.” Peter looked up form his laptop. “Actually, about five days. Hmm, time goes quick.”

Peter was hiding something. “Do you know why he hasn’t been round? Should someone go check on him?”

“Oh, um…probably not a good idea. He uh…” Peter sighed. Oh, yeah, definitely hiding something. Derek could feel his temper prickling. “I haven’t seen him since we got back from Berkeley. He’s excited, really wants to go, but I think the realisation he doesn’t have much time left with his dad hit home. I thought it best to give him some time.”

“You’re lying.” Derek had to use every ounce of strength he possessed not to rip Peter’s head off. “Why bother lying when you know I can tell?”

“Okay, but it’s not a complete lie, it’s a half truth.” Peter put his laptop to one side. “I know you’re going through some stuff where Stiles is concerned, but the kid doesn’t exactly have it easy either. He doesn’t have a single friend, Derek. He graduated last week, did you know that?”

“How am I supposed to know things if he doesn’t talk to me?”

“How is he supposed to tell you things if you don’t talk to him? All you do these days is fling him down and fuck his brains out. When was the last time you actually sat and had a conversation?”

Derek clenched his fists. He was still happy to knock Peter’s head off, but he was also angry with himself. Because Peter had a point. And that burned more than not knowing what was going on with Stiles. When he’d begun concerning himself with the kid, he didn’t know, but Stiles was always there now, in the back of his mind, a penetrating awareness that he wasn’t…close by. And that was ridiculous, because it only seemed like five minute ago Derek wouldn’t even register if Stiles didn’t turn up to a pack meeting, or social get together. Now Derek, well, his body, his wolf, was aware every moment Stiles wasn’t around, and it itched. It itched like a fast healing wound, or a light brush of wolfsbane—bordering on painful, but really just annoying. 

Derek was used to finding Stiles annoying. But not because he wasn’t there. Before it had been because he _was_ there, slicing through Derek’s cool and making his blood boil just for existing. Especially since the Alpha pack. Since Derek had realised what Stiles was, and therefore what he would now become. It was one more thing Derek hadn’t wanted to deal with, so he made Peter promise not to say anything and sealed it with the command of the Alpha. And he’d told Peter, over and over, that he didn’t want Stiles to have to deal with it, and that was true, but he was also being selfish, because in reality, he didn’t want to deal with it himself. The implications of yet another fucking Alpha in the pack, of the help and guidance Stiles would need from him once the power was activated, of having to face the consequences of having an elemental emissary. For fuck’s sake, as if he didn’t have enough nightmares going on with the ragtag bunch of teenagers he’d somehow thought it would be a good idea to turn into a pack. Of course, he’d ended up with an elemental emissary. Because the universe liked to fuck with his life. 

Peter was still watching him, waiting for an answer. “I don’t like talking.” It sounded stupid, even to his own ears. Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Well, maybe if you just sat there before, or even after you fucked him, maybe he’d do the talking for you. He’s good like that.” Derek let go of a growl involuntarily. “Oh, dry up,” Peter said. “I like the kid, I don’t want to take him off you. And you know what?” Derek was too angry to make any indication he was listening, just in case his wolf escaped and ripped Peter’s throat out. “He’s actually a really nice guy. More than that, actually. He’s fun, and interesting, and if I’m honest, pretty damned special. So maybe…just maybe, you should get your head out of your ass, nephew, and make more of an effort with him, because I know you know I know what’s going on with you where he’s concerned.”

“No,” Derek roared, and Peter put his hands up in surrender. “It’s not…that. I don’t…”

“Okay, okay.” Peter grabbed his laptop and stood to leave. “You’re not fooling anyone by denying it, Derek. And the way you treat him…you’re only making your own life harder.” He stopped at the door to the loft. “Perhaps…” He gave a sad smile. “Perhaps its time to stop torturing yourself, Derek. Stiles helped me see that. Maybe he can do that for you too.” He was gone before Derek could say anything. 

He wanted to tell Peter it wasn’t like that, he wanted to tell Peter Stiles was just another stupid kid messing up his life—even though it was his own fault for getting them all involved—he wanted to tell Peter so many things, but everything got stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell Peter to stop encouraging Stiles to think about college because…he sighed, because Derek wasn’t actually going to let Stiles go to college. Which was stupid, because of course he was. As if he could actually stop him. But that was the point, he could stop him. Derek was the Alpha, Derek was Stiles’ Alpha, and with the emissary powers beginning to awaken just beneath the surface of his skin, that infuriating smell of heaven every time he walked into the room, Derek would be able to enforce his will upon Stiles easily. Until…well, until Stiles stepped fully into his power. And that was another reason Derek didn’t want the kid messing around with thoughts of college and training from anyone other than Deaton, who agreed with Derek, that Stiles should be allowed to grow up, have fun, before taking on the huge responsibility waiting for him. 

Derek slumped onto the sofa. And it wasn’t as though he wanted to treat Stiles like a dishrag, to throw him around, to fuck him and then throw him to one side as though he was nothing. He didn’t. It just…happened. A different part of himself surfaced whenever Stiles was around. An angry, possessive, coward, even his wolf shied away from, despite the fact it was his wolf instincts guiding him in those dark moments. A deep-seated urge to consume and conquer rose up from the depths of his animal nature and overwhelmed any thought or control he had. He hated it. Hated feeling so weak, unable to fight an inner nature he didn’t recognise as his own. Maybe Stiles was doing the right thing by staying away. Maybe it was better for both of them to take some time. The more Stiles was with Derek, the more likely his powers would push to be recognised, the more Stiles would withdraw into himself and feel lost without his true nature, probably just thinking he was depressed and worthless. And the more Derek was with Stiles the less strength he would have to fight that desire to possess to devour everything Stiles was and would become. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. The pull to seek Stiles out to mark him, and remind him who he belonged to, to make him submit to his Alpha was present in every single moment, growing stronger and stronger the longer they were apart. But he could do it. Derek had lived through worse, he was sure he could stay away from a damned teenager he had no real interest in. Yeah, right. No real interest. Derek cursed. He hated it when Peter was right. About anything. But about this…about Stiles…about him and Stiles…well, that was just infuriating to a whole new level. 

And now Derek’s body ached to be close to Stiles, after allowing his thoughts to wander. He wanted to bury himself inside, to smell, to touch, to taste. His heart longed for the time he would hold on and never have to let go, and his soul…his soul pined for him to accept the inevitable and put them both out of their misery. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The whole situation was impossible. He slammed out of the loft and did the only thing he could when feelings overwhelmed him. When thoughts of Stiles overwhelmed him. He went for a run. He punished his body with intense workouts until he was exhausted and the only thing he could do was sleep. The empty, dreamless sleep that banished Stiles from his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - possible triggers due to explicit content.
> 
> Updates will be a bit slower from here on in due to work commitments. But, there will still be updates.

It had been a difficult week. Stiles flip flopped between positivity and excitement at the prospect of college, and the deepest darkest pit of depression when he remembered the power of his thoughts and how careless he usually was with them. There were two things that kept coming back to haunt him. Peter—the fact Peter was alive because Stiles had thought death too good for him—and the twins. He’d reached into their giant body and ripped them apart. He’d felt the distinction between the two as his mind searched inside them, and then he’d tugged at Aiden, wrapped a thought around him and pulled. He’d been as surprised as the twins when they popped apart, floored momentarily by the pain of it so that Isaac had overcome Ethan, knocked him out cold. How many times had he thought bad things, wished people harm, and how many of those times had he succeeded without even realising? 

And Peter. Dear, sweet, Peter, who was working so hard to make amends for all the wrong in his life, at least as far as Stiles was concerned. Peter hadn’t been sweet back when they’d killed him. Peter had been insane with grief. With grief, for fuck’s sake. Not that it could be an excuse for murdering innocent people, for biting Scott, or attacking Lydia, but Stiles…Stiles had banished him to a living hell, a life of eternal torment. Maybe it hadn’t quite taken, because Peter often seemed pretty damned chilled and happy, but every now and then Stiles thought he saw shadows haunting the edges of Peter’s mind, and to think…to think that could have been achieved by his thoughts as a stupid, angry kid. It made him feel sick. It made him want to lock himself in his room and take a whole heap of drugs that would prevent him from ever thinking again. 

In the light of those things playing on his mind, he hadn’t spent much time thinking about Derek. About how all the new information he had fitted with what he thought of Derek and was to Derek, or what Derek was to him. Peter had said to tell Derek he’d figured out he was an elemental emissary, but how did you just spring that on someone? And then Derek would want to know how he found out, and it could potentially mean trouble for Peter…Stiles’ brain felt like it was going to explode. Round and round, and round he went with everything, until he’d given up and drunk himself into a whiskey induced coma, so he could finally sleep. Then spent the next day vomiting, which also gave his mind a rest, but convinced him not to take the short-cut option again. He needed to deal with it, he just didn’t know how.

Stiles was still unsure how to approach Derek about his discovery when the next pack meeting rolled around. He hadn’t seen, or spoken to him in over week, and it felt strange approaching the loft now when he’d been a regular visitor for so long. He knew something was wrong as soon as he walked through the door. 

“Hey, Stiles.” Isaac smiled at him. Isaac hadn’t spoken to Stiles for months. “We missed you at school this week. What’s up, have you been sick?”

“Uh, no. I’ve just been busy.”

“Oh, yeah, with what?”

“Just college stuff for next year.”

Derek seemed even more uptight than usual and glared at Stiles without saying a word. He followed Stiles by gaze alone as Stiles made his way to the couch.

“I don’t think I’m going to college this year,” Erica said, flopping down next to him. “I just need a break, you know?” She sniffed the air. “God, you smell so good. What aftershave are you wearing?”

“Eau de Stiles,” he said slowly. He flinched as she leaned against him to get a good whiff. There had been a time when he was used to the wolves getting all up on him for a good scenting session, but those days were long gone, and the unexpected closeness made him nervous.

“Huh. Guess I can’t buy any for Boyd, then.” She grinned at him. “Maybe I should take a bite, see if you taste as good?” She leaned across him. “Perhaps a nice, long, suck would do it.” Stiles closed his eyes, forcing himself not to bolt for the door.

“Ignore her,” Boyd said. “Erica, leave him alone. I know you know how uncomfortable you’re making him.”

She sat back and huffed. “Spoil sport.” Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and made his way as far from Erica as he could get without leaving the room and leaned against the wall.

“Aww, did I scare the human?”

“Have you had any acceptance letters?” Stiles jumped at the sound of Isaac next to him. “For college.” Isaac was so close, Stiles couldn’t think straight. It was so odd after so long. Unlike Erica, Isaac didn’t make his skin crawl. In fact, Stiles felt himself leaning involuntarily closer, and damn, he smelled good. Was that how Stiles smelled to Erica? Because yeah, Stiles wanted to lick Isaac’s neck, and that was super-weird and creepy. Isaac smiled, so sweet, so…enticing. Stiles blinked a few times and the spell was broken.

“Berkeley,” he spluttered, taking a step away. “I’m going to Berkeley.”

“Oh, my god, Stiles…” He turned as Lydia burst through the door. “That is so amazing. Congratulations.” She hugged him. Actually, freaking hugged him. It was such a shock, she was gone before he could even think of reciprocating. Not that he was sure he would have given time to think about it. He’d walked into the freaking Twilight Zone. “I’m going to Stanford. I got accepted to MIT as well, and CalTech, but Stanford was my first choice.”  
“That’s great.” What the hell was going on? They were pretending like nothing had happened, like they hadn’t ignored his very existence for the last ten months. Stiles could still feel Derek’s eyes on him. He was still pissed. Strike that, he was livid, but he seemed to be intrigued by the change, was searching Stiles for…something.

“I’m staying local with Scott,” Isaac added. 

“You guys are getting on then?” Stiles asked, deciding he should meet them half way in this weird charade of ‘let’s be friends with Stiles’. 

Isaac shrugged. “I guess.” 

“You guess? That doesn’t sound convincing enough to hang your future on.”

He shrugged again. “I’d already made up my mind to stay in pack territory. I feel like I need to stay close to Derek for now.”

Stiles looked around for Scott’s judgemental scowl. Ah, Scott wasn’t there, which was presumably why Isaac was talking. Stiles hadn’t heard him say more than ten words at a pack meeting since the whole nonsense had started. Was that why they were talking to him all of a sudden, or had Peter been working his magic? Peter had offered to kick their butts on numerous occasions. Maybe he’d done it while Stiles was taking a ‘me time’ break from their ‘thing’.

Everyone settled in, grabbing food, chatting casually. Peter smiled at Stiles when he came down from his room, but also looked curious at the change in the atmosphere, and Derek…well, Derek carried on brooding in the corner.

 

Scott didn’t arrive until another hour had passed. He was pissed, muttering apologies, but was even more irritated when he realised everyone had started speaking to Stiles in his absence. Between Scott and Derek, Stiles thought he might actually drop dead from the withering looks he was getting. Thankfully, there wasn’t much to talk about, and the meeting wrapped up quickly after Scott had put in an appearance. Stiles was preparing to leave at the end of the meeting, making arrangements to meet Peter later at Jungle, when Derek grabbed his arm. “You stay.”

Derek waited ten minutes after the last wolf left, Peter included, before shoving Stiles into the nearest wall. “Where the fuck have you been all week?” 

“I…what?”

“How can I fuck you if you aren’t here? You expect me to run after you, track you down?”

“No, I…I guess I didn’t think you’d miss me. I’ve been busy.” Busy was the wrong word. He’d been distraught, thinking he was going to kill or injure anyone he thought about.

“Too busy?” Derek thumped him against the wall, and ow… “You belong to me, Stiles. I decide whether you are too busy. Do you understand?” 

_Belong to_? Stiles was too dumbfounded to do anything but stare. Tumble weed floated through his brain.

“Get your fucking clothes off. Now.” Derek stepped back, and Stiles almost fell flat on his face, but he didn’t move to undress as he would usually when Derek told him to. It was too much. The room seemed devoid of air, and Stiles struggled to get enough oxygen into his brain to compute what exactly the fuck was going on. He’d purposefully given Derek space, and maybe he should have texted or something, but Derek could have got in touch, could have asked Stiles to call in. There was no need for a meltdown. There was no need…for…any of it. They’d stumbled onto a dangerous path. One with no safety rails, no boundaries, and by the looks of it, no mutual respect. But not anymore. One of them needed to stand up to whatever it was driving this crazy shit, and right now Derek didn’t look capable. Stiles resolved himself. It was time…

“No.” Stiles straightened his shirt where Derek had rucked it up. “I’m done. We’re done.”

Derek’s eyes flashed red, but Stiles stood his ground. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stared down an Alpha werewolf, not even the first time he’d stared down this Alpha werewolf. “We are done when I say we’re done.” Derek slammed him back against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He was reaching for Stiles pants when Scott burst back into the room making both of them jump. Derek growled in Scott’s direction.

“I uh, forgot my jacket.” He took in their body language. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, slipping out of Derek’s grasp. “I was just leaving.”

Derek grabbed his shirt as he tried to walk away. “Scott is just leaving. You are staying.” Scott found his jacket and disappeared. Derek held Stiles in place until the usual few minutes for hearing distance. “Now are you going to get undressed or do I have to strip you myself?”

“Derek, I said no.” He placed his hand over Derek’s, where Derek still had hold of him. “It doesn’t have to be never again, but this is getting out of hand. I think we both need some space. I appreciate you were there for me when I needed you, and I think I’ve kept this going because I thought maybe you needed me a little…” Derek walked Stiles into the living room and pushed him onto the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking what’s mine.” Derek pulled down Stiles pants and underwear and flipped him onto his stomach. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Stiles tried to fight him, but there was no point, he didn’t stand a chance against Derek’s strength and speed. When the force of Derek’s grip verged on breaking bones, Stiles stopped struggling. Derek paused, and Stiles thought, with the release of pressure, that Derek was letting go. Instead, he readjusted himself, wet his fingers, and pushed into Stiles body. Stiles heart broke, just a little, but he refused to let the tears come. He couldn’t allow one more crappy event in the crapfest of his life, get the better of him. He let go of the tension in his body and lay there while Derek fucked him. 

Once Derek was finished, he stood up, straightened his clothes and left without a word. There was only so much he could deal with at one time. Stiles made his way outside and sat in his trusty jeep, sore and achy, contemplating whether or not to cry. He could feel bruises blossoming all over his body from being slammed into the wall repeatedly, knew he would have marks on his wrists from where Derek had pinned him down. In the end, he figured he’d have to do with it the same as he had done with everything else to do with Derek up to now. He filed it in a box in his head, sealed the lid, and pushed it out of sight.

All he wanted to do was go home and sleep. He texted Peter to say he wasn’t going to Jungle. Then texted again to say he’d changed his mind and would see him there, because come on, he couldn’t let what had happened beat him. Yes, things had gone to hell in a hand basket. Yes, Derek had crossed a line into forbidden territory. And yes, Stiles was out of his fucking mind because even with what had just happened, he couldn’t find it in his heart to hate Derek. And why the hell did he feel defeated rather than blazing angry? Why wasn’t he heading to his secret stash of wolfsbane, so he could inflict some serious damage on the one person he was supposed to be able to trust above all others, the one person who should ensure his safety, and yet had just… Stiles took a deep breath to stop the tears. His phone rang. Peter. He let it go to voice mail. He closed his eyes, and tried to block out the images, the sounds and smells, but they repeated in his head. He had never felt so alone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to leave it for days with a completely broken Stiles...and this chapter was ready to go, so...

The water was cold before Stiles even registered he should get out of the shower. His dad would flip a loop for wasting hot water, but…you showered to get clean, right? Stiles didn’t feel clean yet. Everywhere Derek had touched him, had held him, felt coated in grime and dirt, and nastiness. His arms and wrists were bright red from the scrubbing, his ass, and thighs too, and he’d douched so many times he’d probably end up with an infection from being too clean up there. And yet not clean enough. 

He sat on his bed, naked and sore, and contemplated whether he could really go dancing, of all things. The idea of men pressing against him, touching and grabbing, and stroking over his body. He flopped back on the bed trying to release the constriction across his chest and sucking in gulps of air. Not working. He sat up, and instead dropped his head between his knees. Better. He had to get out there and get on with his life. He couldn’t hibernate in his room just because Derek had turned out to be more of a batshit crazy monster than Peter. Was he? Everything in Stiles’ mind was out of whack. He was trying to minimise serious shit and big up the small stuff. But then he’d always done that. Best friend turned into a werewolf—no biggy. Hot girl in high school ignoring your existence—end of the world. 

Fuck it.

Fuck ‘em all.

He pulled on some clothes, spritzed some artificial smell to banish male musk from his mind, and headed for the door. Peter was waiting by his jeep.

“You were a bit cryptic earlier. Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Stiles…”

“Just the usual shitstorm from Derek. I was going to wallow, but I decided he can go…” he couldn’t say it. Derek and ‘that word’ no longer belonged in the same sentence. The same conversation. “But, you don’t have to wait for me. I’m actually going to the diner first.” He hadn’t been, but, stalling…yeah, he was good at that.

Peter looked sceptical, although technically Stiles hadn’t lied so… “Well, you know where I am if you need anything.”

“I do indeed.” He jumped in his jeep and drove off without a backward glance in Peter’s direction because, hello, fighting tears was something he did not want Peter to get a whiff of.

 

The diner was reasonably busy. Stiles found a free booth near the back and out of the way. He ordered coffee, fries, and a steak sandwich. Then cancelled the sandwich and ordered a chicken burger. Then cancelled the lot. Then reordered the fries. 

“Can’t make up your mind, huh?” Stiles looked up to see a guy about his own age smiling. He was cute, blond, deep brown eyes, slender but nicely toned by the looks of it. Everything Derek wasn’t his traitor mind helpfully supplied. The smile faltered when Stiles didn’t say anything. “I, uh, I’ve seen you at Jungle. I thought I’d say hi.”

“Oh. Um. Hi.”

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

“I’m sorry, are you hitting on me?”

“Um…well, that was kind of the idea, but if you don’t want that, then,” the guy shrugged, “no such thing as too many friends, right?”

Friends. Stiles didn’t know what those were anymore. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re cute and all, but do you mind if I say ‘just friends’?”

The guy smiled and slipped into the booth opposite. “I’m Parker. I’ll be honest, I’ve actually never hit on someone before, so its okay that it didn’t work.”

Great. Now Stiles felt guilty. “It’s not that it didn’t work…I just…have a lot going on, you know?”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s cool.” Parker ordered a coffee. “So, are you going to tell me your name or should I just think of you as ‘Jungle guy’.”

“Oh, Stiles.” The fries arrived, and Stiles tucked in. After the first bite, Stiles realised he was famished. He looked around for the waitress. “Hey, can I have that Chicken Burger, after all?” She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Help yourself,” he said to Parker, pushing the plate into the middle of the table.

“Thanks. So, what’s the story? I usually see you at Jungle with an older guy. Did he dump you, or something?”

Stiles snorted. “Not even close. That’s Peter. He’s just a friend. It helps, you know, for people to see you have someone looking out for you.”

“Not the boyfriend, then?”

“Hell, no.” Stiles looked at Parker again. “What about you?”

“I usually go with a group of friends. My cousin’s friends, actually. They’re a few years older than me, but kind of feel sorry for me, so let me tag along.” He sighed. “No boyfriend. At the moment,” he added. “Last one left me for a girl. Honestly, I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.”

“I know that feeling.”

“You got dumped too?”

“Not exactly. To be honest, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m not the conventional type,” he said as way of explanation. He didn’t add that it was because he’d never had the chance to be. Stiles shovelled some fries into his mouth. “But, this guy I was fucking turned out to be even more of a jerk than I thought he was. Totally blindsided me.” He paused, another handful of fries halfway to his mouth. “Now I just feel…” he swallowed. “Like shit.”

“Sleeping around?”

“We weren’t exclusive. He just…” What? Derek just what? “Possessive. Over the top. Out of line. Can’t talk about it.”

“Got it.” Parker bit the end off a single fry. “You going to Jungle tonight? We could, I dunno, go together. As friends, I mean.”

Stiles tuned in to the vibe Parker was giving off. Lonely. The kid was lonely. He recognised that vibe without any trouble at all. “Yeah, that’ll be cool,” Stiles said, smiling for the first time. “But I’m really not looking to hook up tonight, you know?”

“That’s okay. I’m not really…” Parker blushed. “I’ve never done the one-night-stand, or first date sex, anyway.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen. I’m not a virgin,” he said quickly. “I just…”

“You’re just more conventional. That’s cool, man, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. We are what we are.” Stiles picked up his burger, ready to take a bite. “I don’t drink when I’m there. Peter insists I have the stamp, so I know what’s going on.”

“I’ve got a fake ID, but I don’t have to drink. I don’t always.”

“I don’t mind if you do, I just wanted you to know I won’t be. Besides, it means I can drive home.”

“Yeah, that’s better than relying on someone else. Not that my cousin ever let’s me leave without him. But he won’t be there tonight.”

Stiles chewed and swallowed. “Peter will be there, but it’s okay, I don’t have to hang with him. We can look out for each other.”

“Sounds good.”

Stiles noticed he was finally starting to unwind in Parker’s company. It wasn’t easy, the kid was super naïve in some ways, and totally crazy in others. He’d never skipped school, or lied to his parents, but he smoked weed, stayed out all night, and had a penchant for shoplifting.

“Don’t tell me that…” Stiles laughed. Actually laughed. “My dad is the Sheriff, I’ll have to make a citizen’s arrest.”

“Oh, come on. Even as the son of the Sherriff, I bet you’ve broken a few laws.”

“I admit to nothing.” Stiles threw some money on the table and stood to leave. 

“I was supposed to be buying your coffee.”

“Next time.”

 

They walked the few blocks to Jungle, chatting casually. Parker stopped at the end of the ridiculous queue. “Come on,” Stiles said. “You don’t have to wait there.” Not that he’d ever gone in without Peter before, but hey, first time for everything. Or not. When they arrived at the front of the line, Peter was waiting.

“I thought you’d changed your mind. Who’s your friend,” Peter said with obvious interest.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m looking out for him, and he is not going home with you.”

“Touchy.” Peter grinned. “I’m Peter.” He held out his hand, and Parker shook it. 

“Parker.”

Peter laughed. “Together we make a superhero.”

“No.” Stiles slapped Peter’s hand away. “I mean it.”

Peter sighed. “Fine, whatever.” He motioned for Stiles and Parker to go before him. “In you go then.”

Once they were inside, Stiles pulled Parker to one side. “Look, Peter likes you. He’s a decent enough guy, but he’s only interested in fucking you. Dance with him, make out with him if you have to, but do not leave with him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Stiles.” He paused. “You’re sure you don’t mind me kissing him?”

“Knock yourself out, but I warn you, he’s good at it, and you will want to go home with him, and for a conventional kind of guy, that is not a good idea.”

“You’ve fucked him?”

“Yes. Like I said, he’s good. But he’s not…”

“Conventional,” Parker added.

“Exactly. He’s the kind of guy your cousin is protecting you from.”

“He’s too old for me, anyway. For anything more than dancing and kissing in a club. I prefer guys my own age.” He smiled shyly as he watched Stiles get his no alcohol stamp.

“Right. Well. Let’s go.”

 

It turned out to be a fun night. Parker could dance. Really dance. His smaller stature, and light muscle weren’t at all threatening, and after an hour with Parker Stiles was okay with older, bigger built guys rubbing up on him. In actual fact the whole thing was cathartic as he got his groove on with some and declined the advances of others. It was good for him, empowering for his no to mean no, and slowly but surely, he shook off the heaviness and started to enjoy himself. 

Parker was enjoying himself too. He kissed a lot of guys, but there was something about his way that made it clear he wasn’t really interested. Stiles could definitely learn something from the kid. Stiles leaned back against Peter’s familiar chest when he finally appeared behind him, accepted the embrace of the arm around his waist. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter half shouted into Stiles’ ear. Stiles nodded, rather than trying to be heard over the music. He wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. But he knew now he would be, and that was enough. “You should fuck your little friend. He’s got a crush on you.”

Stiles spun around to face Peter, leaned into his ear. “Not everything is about sex, Peter. Besides, the kid’s looking for a boyfriend not a quick fuck. Kind of rules me out.”

Peter stopped dancing and stared at Stiles. “What’s going on, Stiles?” 

“I can’t hear you.” It was the first out right lie he’d told Peter since they’d started sleeping together. He slipped off into the crowd of bodies before Peter could call him on it. Thankfully, Peter didn’t follow. But as he made it to the bar, Parker appeared at his side. “Oh, good. I was just thinking of heading home. Can I drop you somewhere?” Parker nodded, and they made their way outside. Stiles texted Peter to tell him he was driving home, and dropping Parker off, and received a thumbs-up that meant he didn’t have to worry about Peter tracking him down to make sure he was safe. He did appreciate Peter, and he hoped he’d find something suitably hot and horny to spend the rest of the night with. Which he would. Because he was Peter.

Stiles’ ears were still ringing when they made it back to the jeep. “Where am I going?”

“Over on Blueberry.”

“Very nice.” It was the posh side of town, and as Parker directed him through the streets the houses got bigger and bigger. 

“It’s this one.” 

Stiles pulled up outside of a large, gated property. “Very nice, indeed.”

“My mom’s a surgeon.” He shrugged. “It’s why she’s never home.”

“Dad?”

“Military. He’s deployed.”

“That has to be hard.”

“No more than your dad being a Sheriff. Dangerous job.”

“True.” They sat awkwardly. 

“I’d uh…I’d like to see you again. Buy you that coffee.”

“Yeah, that’s cool. Let me, uh…” Stiles fished out his phone. “What’s your number?” they swapped numbers. “I guess you’re at school during the week.”

Parker nodded. “What do you do?”

“I graduated already. I’m only eighteen though. Just, took a lot of extra credits.”

Parker reached over and kissed Stiles cheek. “Thanks for the lift, Stiles. And thanks for hanging out. I had a great time. It was nice not having to rely on my cousin.”

“I had fun. Which was unexpected after the day I’ve had, so thanks.” He watched Parker get out of the jeep. “Let me know when you’re free for that coffee.” Parker smiled. He was definitely cute. Why couldn’t Stiles just get out of the car and kiss him already, and then maybe date for a while, and be a boyfriend? But he couldn’t. Because Parker was a good kid. Nice. He deserved…he deserved something, someone, that wasn’t Stiles. He drove away, leaving behind all the positive energy he’d gained from his evening. Parker needed someone who could grow and explore with him, not some used up, broken fuck toy, who didn’t know how to have a healthy relationship. Who wouldn’t know a healthy relationship if it slapped him the face. But it was okay. Stiles would be free of it soon. College couldn’t come soon enough.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be working...but I keep getting distracted, and editing instead. 
> 
> Just a short one.

There was nothing, anywhere, at his usual research hotspots about elemental emissaries. Nothing. Stiles thought maybe if he could lose himself in some research—because of course Beacon Hills Hell Pit would be quiet during the time he needed something to occupy his mind—he wouldn’t be so hung up on torturing himself for being, well, for just being himself. He was just wondering whether to jump in the jeep and spend the day at Berkeley when his phoned beeped. Peter. Damn it. He wanted to see him, he did, but he couldn’t. Deep purple bruises had blossomed around his wrists, and there was no way to hide them—not from Peter. And even if he could hide the marks on his wrists, he wouldn’t be able to cover the ones on his back and hips, and there wasn’t much chance of seeing Peter and not wanting to get naked. 

He read the text. `I was going to cook. Full Sunday, all the trimmings. See you at 2?` Oh, man, did Stiles want that dinner. Another text. `My place, not the loft.` He knew. Derek had either told him, or Peter had figured it out. There was no way he’d do a roast without Derek. Oh well, no need to hide out until the bruises went down then. He may as well go and enjoy his dinner. “I’ll be there.” He pressed send and checked the time. He had just over an hour. And he had an idea to make things less awkward. For him, not for Derek. Derek could go hang himself. If Peter didn’t do it for him.

 

Stiles was impressed, if he did say so himself. His wrists looked…like his wrists, no bruises in sight thanks to an impromptu visit to the drugstore for some make-up. The concealer had worked perfectly. He hadn’t been able to reach his back, but those ones weren’t too bad, and his hips he’d get away with because he always had fingerprints there—a symptom of sex with supernatural, super strength beings. And it was good, because Stiles really wanted to make sure he would be okay having sex. That he wouldn’t freak out on his stomach with fingers probing. And with Peter he could control the narrative, change things up if he got spooked. Stiles caught his thought process and stilled. Who the fuck else would he be having sex with other than Peter? Was he really that twisted that his subconscious was still considering Derek as a regular fuck? No way. Not now, not ever. He would make sure he was never on his own with Derek. Never on his own with Derek and Peter, because Derek wouldn’t think twice about fucking in front of Peter. It was actually weird, when he thought about it like that. Who in their right mind had sex parties with their uncle? Shared partners with their uncle? But then it was the Hales they were talking about. Peter was an undead over-sexed hedonist, and Derek…was sick. 

Stiles had always wondered how Derek managed to function given what had happened to him. Now Stiles realised he didn’t. He was blagging it. For so many hours a week he got away with it, and then the façade broke down and he turned in to the Derek Stiles knew far too intimately. He wondered, not for the first time, what Derek would be like if shit hadn’t happened. Peter had said Derek was wrong, that the way he was now wasn’t who he was supposed to be. Stiles thought maybe he’d like the other Derek, the Derek he’d caught glimpses of in the early days after Scott was bitten. The Derek who just wanted to help but had no idea how. Stiles liked that Derek. That was the Derek he thought he’d be having sex with when he’d pleaded that night for attention. It was a Derek he hadn’t seen even a ghosting of since that first fuck. Had Stiles broken Derek with his dangerous mind powers? No…  
No…  
No…there had to be more to it. Stiles couldn’t be the only reason Derek was off his rocker. And there he was again trying to justify Derek’s action. There was no justification. Ever. Not for that. And especially when Stiles had given so freely of himself to Derek’s freaky shit.

 

He was nervous as he hovered at the door. The Camaro hadn’t been in the lot, but maybe Derek had decided to run. Peter opened the door and Stiles jumped. “Why are you jittering around out here?”

“I, uh…no reason.” He walked in behind Peter and closed the door. No Derek.

“Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said slowly. Peter was being far too casual about the whole thing. Maybe he didn’t know after all. “No Derek?”

“You said Derek gave you a hard time after the meeting so I left him to his own devices. You want me to call him?”

“No, it’s good to take a break. Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Are you okay? You’ve gone all weird again. If there’s something going on with you and Derek, maybe I can help.”

“Not this time. How long ‘til dinner? I’m starving.” It was a relief not to have to deal with it. Talk about it. Shout about it. Acknowledge it. Though Stiles became acutely aware his cover up job wasn’t as good as he’d initially thought. 

Peter glanced at Stiles’ wrists every five minutes or so over dinner. After clearing the table, and with Stiles stuffed to the point of having to undo the button on his pants, Peter led him to the sofa and sat him down. He took one of Stiles’ hands and kissed the palm. “Now,” he said, licking a finger and drawing it through the make-up to reveal the faintest shadow of a bruise underneath. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“Can I say no?”

“As long as you can promise me that if anything gets out of hand, you’ll come to me.” _If anything gets out of…_ ooh, Peter thought it was consensual kink. Okay. That was good. Stiles could deal with that. 

“I promise.” He wasn’t sure what he was promising, so he got away without it being a lie.

“Okay. Are they painful?”

“A little.” Peter blew lightly over the bruise he’d uncovered, and black lines snaked up his arms as he took Stiles’ pain. Stiles let his head fall back against the sofa. He hadn’t realised how painful they were until it was gone.  
“That’s so good.”

“Good, good, or good you want me to kiss you all over, good?”

Stiles grinned, his eyes still closed. “Both. Though you may have to give me half an hour for my dinner to go down.”

Peter kissed along each finger of Stiles’ hand. “It’ll take me much longer than that before I’m ready for anything. I did say all over, after all.”

Stiles sighed contentedly, and let go to the gentle, teasing ministrations of Peter’s hedonist streak. By the time Peter slipped into Stiles’ body, he was thrumming on the edge of his climax, and desperate to feel Peter inside of him. And that was good, so good. He was so thoroughly blissed out, he couldn’t understand why he’d been worried, how he would ever not want this. Peter had this way, a magical way, of worshipping every cell of the body until Stiles didn’t know which way was up, much less care. Amazing. And so, so, needed. As Stiles’ climax ripped through his body, he floated on a bed of soft kisses before strong arms wrapped around him and cuddled him close as he drifted off to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles applied the concealer to his bruises again. It was warm out and he didn’t want to go pulling up his sleeves and then having to explain to anyone, everyone. He was only popping out to meet Parker for coffee, but the diner could be busy on Monday’s after school with kids still trying to hang on to their weekend. It looked good enough, and he didn’t really know Parker well enough for him to ask if he did notice something. 

There was no parking space outside, so Stiles pulled up a few streets over and jogged the rest of the way. Parker was waiting outside for him.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Stiles asked as Parker smiled. He surprised Stiles by kissing him on the cheek.

“Good. I wasn’t sure you’d actually want to do this, so, yeah, really good.”

They settled in to a booth and ordered coffee. Stiles ordered curly fries, because, come on, he was eighteen and always hungry. Parker declined the offer for Stiles to buy him some food. “Hey, wait, please tell me you aren’t one of those guys who refuses to eat anything to stay ripped, are you?

Parker laughed. “Definitely, not. I just don’t really like eating out.”

“Right.”

“You never know what they’ve done to the food, not really. I guess I’m a bit OCD about stuff like that.” He huffed. “Not hygiene. I don’t have to carry hand sanitizer or anything, but I like to see what happens to my food before it arrives on the plate.”

“But the coffee’s okay?”

“It’s boiled, but yeah, I can manage with drinks anyway. Maybe not milkshake. But pretty much everything else.”

Stiles was wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into when the door to the diner opened and Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Lydia tumbled in, flustered and laughing. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Problem?” Parker glanced at the pack. “Is it your not-ex?”

“It’s the ex-bff since kindergarten who suddenly decided he was too cool to hang out with me and took my friends with him. I’ve never seen them here.” And of course, Isaac would see him. Could probably smell him. “Shit. Look, if they come over, I don’t think they will, but if they do, can you like…I dunno, pretend…”

“To be your boyfriend?”

“I’ll owe you.” Parker was still considering when the last of Stiles’ luck ran out.

“Hey, it’s Stiles.” Lydia swept over, Erica close behind. Stiles could see Scott holding Isaac in place. “What are you doing this side of town, Stiles, and who’s your friend?”

Stiles opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was still watching Scott. Or rather Isaac pulling out of Scott’s grasp and heading over. 

“I’m Parker.” Stiles snapped his head round to see Parker give a super-sweet smile to Lydia. Oh, yeah, he was cute. Lydia and Erica melted, just a little. “Stiles is here to see me.” He reached across the table and took Stiles’ hand. “Who are you?”

“Dating, huh? Nice catch, Stiles.” Erica was obviously impressed. “I’m Erica, this is Lydia…”

“And I’m Isaac.” Isaac slipped into the booth next to Stiles. “Scott and Boyd over there aren’t very friendly.”

“Not when it comes to me, anyway,” Stiles said to Parker.

“Boyd is completely neutral.” Erica snapped. “As are we, look, we’re here aren’t we? He’s just too lazy to stand around chatting when he could be sat eating.”

“Stiles has never mentioned any of you.” Parker was staring at Isaac. Lydia raised an eyebrow. “How do you all know each other?”

“From school,” Lydia said before Erica could get creative. 

“Ah that’ll be it then,” Parker said, taking it all in his stride, and that was saying something because Lydia alone was intimidating, but with Erica as back up… “Stiles had already graduated when we started seeing each other.”

“You’ve graduated?” Lydia’s voice was more of squeal. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What, you thought I’d just dropped out of school, or did you just not notice I haven’t been there?”

“I noticed.” Isaac was impossibly close, and Stiles shifted away, closer to the wall, and squeezed Parker’s hand for moral support. Isaac smelled of honeysuckle and vanilla blossom, and Stiles wanted to lean in and…

“Maybe I should get the fries to go,” Stiles said. He chugged back his coffee. 

“Don’t let us ruin your date.” Erica snapped her teeth on the t.

“It’s okay,” Parker said. “We were going back to my house anyway. He stepped out of the booth. “I’ll grab your fries while you say goodbye.”

“He seems nice.” Isaac sounded sad. “He’s hot.”

“Nice ass.” Erica smirked. “Guess you’ll be all up on that later.”

“Don’t be so crude,” Lydia chastised. She glared at Stiles. “Don’t forget who your family are Stiles?”

“Family? Are you fucking kidding me?” He turned to Isaac. “Excuse me, Isaac. I have somewhere else to be.” He turned back to Lydia. “You don’t know the meaning of family. If you did, you wouldn’t have abandoned me at the drop of hat, and for what? To get on the good side of your True, fucking, Alpha? Yeah, some family you turned out to be. You should remember who left, who, Lydia. Because I think I waited long enough for you to see sense before I moved on. Too long, actually. You can’t just step back in to my life because you feel like it. And yes, once I get to college if a better offer comes up, the Hale pack will need a new emissary.” The three of them gasped, and Stiles turned his back on them with a sense of great satisfaction.

Parker was waiting patiently by the door, withstanding the death glare Scott was levelling at him. Stiles was seething. His whole body was trembling, he was so mad. Fucking family? The nerve of it. “Are you okay?” Parker looked worried.

Stiles slipped an arm over his shoulder, kissed his cheek and smiled. “I will be just great as soon as we get out of here.” Stiles could feel eyes on him as he strutted out of the diner towards the jeep, pulling Parker in closer.

Once they made it to the jeep, Parker stopped, leaning lightly against Stiles. “Did I do okay?”

“You did great, thanks.”

“Your friends are really intense. Like, serial killer intense.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Yeah, but I mean seriously. I thought the blonde girl was trying to melt my brain.”

“Erica?” Stiles laughed. “She probably was.”

“The guy was…hot. Isaac, right? He seriously likes you.”

“I don’t think so. He’s seeing Scott. Actually, it’s when they started dating that Scott stopped speaking to me.” Stiles thought about that for a moment but couldn’t see how it would be connected. He realised he was ignoring Parker.

“You don’t have to come back to my house,” Parker said sadly.

“No, I want to. We said we’d hang out, so we’re hanging out. It doesn’t matter that it’s not at the diner.” Parker smiled and kissed his cheek before moving around to the passenger door. Stiles climbed in and twisted in his seat to look at Parker. “Parker, you know this isn’t a date, right?”

“Don’t worry, Stiles. You said you wanted to be friends, so we’ll be friends. Though we have a strict no clothes policy in my house, so you will have to get naked.” Stiles opened his mouth to say something just as Parker laughed. “I’m joking, god, what kind of friends are you used to?”

“You have no idea, Parker. No idea.” He slammed the jeep into gear and drove away.

 

“You want a soda, or something?” 

“Sure, thanks.” Oh, how the other half lived. Stiles was used to posh houses—Lydia’s house, but wow, that’s all he could think. “Did your parents hire an interior designer? This place looks like something out of a magazine. I didn’t actually realise ordinary people had houses like this.”

“My mom says she’s not home very often, so when she is, she wants to feel good.” Parker handed Stiles a can. “There’s beer if you prefer. My dad has always said he would prefer to know I can handle alcohol than for me to go out and get wasted and end up in trouble.”

“Sensible man, but the soda is fine, thanks.”

“PlayStation?”

“Absolutely.” Parker led Stiles into what was obviously the ‘media room’. A massive flatscreen hung to one side, with big comfy couches, bean bags, a snooker table, dart board… “Whoa. Is this all yours?”

“Mom and dad aren’t around much so they encourage me to have friends over.”

“I bet they never want to leave.”

Parker shrugged. “We tend to take it in turns at each other’s houses. Everyone’s stressed out about college applications and grades at the moment, so they’ve been hitting the books.”

“And you?”

“I’m like you. I already have enough credits to graduate, and I’ve been accepted at Princeton, so I’m all set. Just chilling for the rest of the year.”

“Princeton, nice. What are you studying?”

“Visual Arts. Most of the photography and art work in the house is mine. I’m taking some music modules as well.”

Stiles went up to one of the huge photo canvases on the wall. There were layers of texture, somehow familiar. “Is that…”

“The locker room at school. Well, a very small part of it.”

“Wow, that is so cool. You’re talented.”

“It’s more about seeing what others don’t see.” There was an odd tone to his voice and Stiles turned to look at him.

“Such as?”

Parker shrugged. “You want to know why I approached you in the diner?” Stiles heart stalled. Had he seriously fallen for some kind of supernatural set-up? “You looked lonely. More so even than me. And all those times I’ve seen you at Jungle with Peter, it was like you were there, but part of you was somewhere else. Even now, you’re here, but part of you is…” He threw Stiles a games controller. “It doesn’t matter where it is, and I don’t need to know. But I guess we both need a friend.”

Stiles let go of the breath he was holding. Not a set up. Just a kid with an artistic eye. A lonely kid, who saw a mirror reflection in Stiles. “Yeah. Things have been tough lately, you know? Scott, well, it knocked the stuffing out of me.”

“GTA or Zombies?”

“Zombies.” They both threw themselves down on the couch to let off some steam obliterating the undead, and Stiles smirked at the thought of Peter—a real undead—and how clean cut and well kept he was compared to the onscreen version.


	16. Chapter 16

Derek studied Peter as he typed away, blissfully unaware of the turmoil rumbling away beneath the surface of Derek's skin. He looked happy. Content. And it fascinated Derek to the point of obsession lately that he could just be, that he could move on from the psychotic rage that had fuelled him for so long when Derek was barely making it through the days. Derek wanted to ask him, needed to, but as always lately the words failed him. Thoughts tormented him, but words refused to form. He'd been that way since Kate. Since she got inside his head and… He gave a full body shudder. Forbidden thought. Don't go there. Don't open that box.

"I know you're there," Peter said, not looking up.

"You wouldn't be much of a wolf if you didn't."

"True, but I can hear you overthinking your latest whoa. You should learn to relax a little."

"You think I have time to relax?"

"I think you have time to step down from being an overbearing, tetchy martyr with a penchant for self-loathing, yes. Who exactly is it serving, nephew?"

Derek stared. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He struggled for a response, but nothing came.

“Look,” Peter said, setting aside his laptop. “I get that you have a lot on your plate with the pack’s internal squabbling, but we are enjoying a much-needed reprieve from all things supernatural. Embrace it. Take a break from your fretting and kick back. You must remember what it’s like just to have fun, Derek.”

“I’m not like you.” 

“That much is clear, but I’m not suggesting you morph into full blown hedonist mode.”

Hedonism. Yeah, right. Because tapping into the pleasures of the body was something Derek was so good at. Like he’d ever had a chance. Rigid. Stifled. Deformed. That’s how his emotions existed. Behind steel doors, along with any chance at the simple pleasures, let alone the hedonistic delights Peter so frequently wallowed in. Maybe, if it had just been Kate, if things had been normal for him after that he may have survived with more of himself intact, or at least with the ability to develop, to discover something akin to pleasure…or fun. An ache, deep in his chest made him think of Stiles and he remembered Isaac mentioning him. 

“Have you seen Stiles?”

“Not really. He said you got a bit rough with him the last time he was here so I’ve been staying clear. You?”

“I got…” Yes, he’d almost forgotten, and yet not, because how could he forget? The fight had fuelled him into…and then the surrender, Stiles just giving up beneath him, and Derek had wanted to stop, had tried… He rubbed his hands over his face trying to put it from his mind. “Isaac said he’s dating. A blond guy, his age?”

“Dating?” Peter looked stumped for a moment. “Oh, that must be Parker. Very nice, if I do say so myself, but not dating. I saw them at the club the other night. Just friends. I was given the strict ‘hands off’.”

Jealousy rumbled. “Why? He doesn’t want to share you?”

“God, no. He doesn’t want me messing with his innocent little friend.”

“But Stiles isn’t interested in him?”

“Stiles seems to think Parker is too…nice, too normal. He’ll be giving you a run for your martyr money soon.”

Derek huffed. He wished he understood more of the deep musings Peter shared, but the thoughts always took him dangerously close to places he didn’t want to go. “What exactly do you do at the club, what does Stiles do at the club?”

Peter stared blankly. “Oh, wait, you’re seriously asking?” He frowned, and Derek could feel his temper starting to gurgle. “Right, well, it’s a club so there’s dancing. Mostly. Stiles doesn’t drink there, I made sure of that. So, lots of dancing, rubbing up against hot bodies, making out. Oh, and groping. The usual.”

“With who?”

“Whoever catches your eye. Or your ass, in Stiles’ case. He’s very popular, as you can imagine. And god, can he move.” Peter drifted off, his gaze wandering, and anger flared deep in Derek’s gut. He caught a glimpse of Stiles moving against Peter, deep in the throes of ecstasy and something snapped. Luckily, Peter was fast on his feet. The door to the loft slammed just as Derek’s claws gouged a chunk out of the sofa where Peter’s chest had been moments before. Derek roared in frustration and ripped deeper and deeper into the couch until it was just a pile of wood and material. Anger was an emotion, so was frustration. Why couldn’t Derek express other emotions in the same way as those default settings? Why couldn’t he express passion, and desire…love…? He wanted those things. He wanted to dance, to move against another person for fun, for the connection. He wanted to caress, to kiss, to feel warm lips against his. He wanted those things with Stiles. How could that ever be possible after everything that had happened between them? Derek had…had violated Stiles’ trust. Not once, but repeatedly. How could he possibly come back from that to something, anything in the same zipcode as normal? Derek curled into a ball on the floor, his knees tight to his chest. There were no tears, just an empty desperation for all the things he would never have. 

 

It was dark when he woke, and Derek was cold. Not just on the surface of his skin, but bone deep. Cold, weary, and so, so, lonely. Laura would have known what to do, she would have tried to fix it, she would have known what to say to get him up and get him moving. Now who did he have that even cared? Except…Stiles had cared before… and just like that Derek knew what to do. He got up and stretched out his aching muscles. Peter was right, god, he couldn’t believe he was saying it, but yes, Peter was right, and there were things to do. 

 

The queue outside the club was ridiculous. And disturbingly young. Derek marched to the front and handed over his ID. The security guard took it and gave it the once over. “Oh, that makes a change.” The guy shoved his ID back at him and unhooked the rope. “It’s not very often we have an ‘actual real-life nephew’ use their uncle’s VIP access.” The smirk was evident, and Derek scowled. “Have a great night.”

He started to walk off, then turned back. “Is Stiles here?”

“Upstairs. If you’re intending to take him home, remind him to check out with Peter.” Derek nodded as if the statement made sense to him and headed inside. 

He shook his head a few times trying to get used to the volume. How Peter stood it on a regular basis, he had no idea. He made a note to tone down the scowl from murderous, to pissed when the sea of bodies parted around him as he made his way through the club. By the time he got to the stairs it must have been working because he was receiving a few glances of a very different kind. His body tensed every time someone touched him, deliberate or otherwise, and kept moving up the stairs seeking out the dance floor. A guy stepped in front of him. “Hello, hello, hello.” His smile was hopeful, but Derek stepped around him, ignoring the insults that followed.

Finally, at the edge of the dance floor, Derek scanned the sea of moving bodies and spotted Stiles at once surrounded by guys—men—taking turns to touch, gyrate, and generally manhandle what was his. A growl rumbled deep inside, but he fought it down. Not this time. This time would be different. This was Stiles’ turf. This time Derek would present himself to Stiles, offer himself up. If Stiles wasn’t interested, well, he’d go home alone to lick his wounds. In fact, he was going to go home alone anyway. Tonight, he wanted things to be normal. To be as they should be. If…and it was a big if…but, if Stiles was interested, they would dance, and touch, and…and… Derek was surprised to find he’d already made it through the masses. A space opened up just behind Stiles and he stepped into it and slipped a gentle arm around Stiles’ waist. He felt him tense, and slowly retreated the hand as Stiles turned to face him. Derek raised both hands in surrender, or supplication, maybe and waited for the response.

 

**

 

The club was busy, and Stiles was getting his groove on whilst keeping a watchful eye on Parker. It made him feel useful, worthy somehow, looking out for his friend. In truth, he was bored. Bored of the same thing night after night when what he really wanted was not available. Was not safe. Or sane. He wanted to be pinned down and fucked by strangers until he couldn’t think, he wanted to be pushed to the point of surrender, he wanted to stop the need, the ache deep inside for the one person who would never truly want… Stiles sensed a change in air, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he could feel eyes on him. He kept moving against the faceless man in front of him, but his body was already responding to the presence of someone else. A familiar hand reached around his waist, and Stiles tensed not believing it was real. The hand withdrew as he turned to see Derek raise his hands in front of him. He looked…broken, nothing unusual there, but this time there was an edge of something…surrender maybe? Without thinking too much, Stiles reached for Derek’s hand and placed it back on his waist. The relief that washed over Derek was palpable and made Stiles brave. He stepped in closer, pressing their bodies together, testing out the feel of this new Derek, this Derek who asked permission before touching, the Derek Stiles had wanted from the beginning. They moved together, slow and steady, feeling their way as if for the first time. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled him close, nuzzled into his neck and breathed deeply against him. 

“Stiles, oh, god…I want…” His breath ghosted over Stiles’ skin setting him on fire. “Stiles, I’m so, so, s…” Stiles pulled back and stopped the word with a finger to Derek’s lips. He didn’t want to hear it. Not that word. If Derek said that word, then everything bad that had happened between them would be real, and Stiles didn’t want it to be, not now, not tonight. Instead, he moved his hand to rest against Derek’s cheek and reached in to press their lips together. It was like being zapped by lightening. Perfect and dangerous. Their first kiss. Derek opened to him, deepening the kiss and Stiles felt rather than heard the whimper that followed. They danced, and kissed, and stayed wrapped up in each other oblivious of everyone else around them, and for Stiles it was heaven.

It was too much. 

Stiles dragged Derek off the dance floor and pushed him against the wall in a secluded alcove. He wanted to head for the nearest horizontal surface and ride Derek into the sunset, but it was too risky, too tenuous, he didn’t want to break the spell. He fumbled with Derek’s zipper, but Derek spun them around and before Stiles knew what was happening, Derek sunk to his knees and wrapped his perfect lips around Stiles’ rock-hard cock. So many firsts. The first time Derek had even touched Stiles’ cock, and god, he was good. Stiles’ whole body turned to jelly as he shot down Derek’s throat. Derek packed him away and lifted him up, Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and leaned back against the wall, pulling Derek with him, and kissing hard and deep. 

Derek made no attempt to gain any kind of reciprocation. He seemed intent on kissing and touching, and mapping Stiles’ body with his fingertips. But, as all good dreams are bound to do, the gentle touch came to an end, and Derek placed Stiles back on his feet. “I have to…”

“I know,” Stiles said before Derek could shatter Stiles’ world. “What happens now?”

“I don’t…” Derek frowned. “I wanted…” And then he was gone. Stiles stared after him. It would be easy to be angry. Easy to feel lost and confused, but what was the point? Until Stiles came face to face with Derek the next time…the next evening at the pack meeting, there was no way to tell whether this had been a one-off dream, or yet another Derek mind fuck. Given how good the fantasy had been Stiles was definitely willing to put the worry aside and live off the fumes of the memory without tainting the experience just yet. He headed back to the dance floor to check on Parker. 

“He was hot,” Parker said coming up behind Stiles. “I thought you’d ditched me and left.”

“Not a chance.” 

“Did you know him?”

“You could say that.” Stiles sighed. “How about you, anything you fancy in here this evening?” 

“Wait, was that the ex-not boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but let’s not talk about that. Do you want to dance?”

“Sure.” Parker grinned and pulled Stiles onto the dance floor and for the rest of the night, Stiles rubbed up against strangers and remembered Derek’s hands, and Derek’s lips on his, and the feel of Derek’s tongue, and his sweet, hot mouth and the soft whisper of his name on Derek’s breath.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. I did say it was a long road.

Derek’s heart was racing. Stiles would be here any minute, the whole pack would, and he still didn’t have a clue what to say or do. Last night had been…the best… _the_ absolute best thing in Derek’s life for more years than he could remember, and yet he’d still managed to mess it up by walking away. Walking away because his words had failed him again. So many emotions overwhelming him and cutting off the supply of words from his brain. And now he was lost. No direction, and he didn’t trust himself to make the right call when faced with an audience. When faced with Stiles on his own even. 

“I saw you at the club.” Peter filled the doorway, larger than life. “You had fun. I’m impressed.”

“Stay out of it.”

“You know, you could just tell him. There is no way in hell he doesn’t feel it.”

The very tip of Derek’s claws pierced the soft skin over Peter’s throat where Derek held him against the wall. “Not so fast today, uncle.”

“He’s more powerful than you think. He needs you, Derek. He needs his Alpha.” Peter slumped forward as Derek released his hold. “Before it’s too late.”

“Stop meddling, Peter. This is your last warning.”

The door to the loft opened just as Peter disappeared into his room. Stiles looked…good. More than that, he looked hopeful and Derek remembered every touch and taste from the night before, the passion, the all-encompassing rightness, but rather than relief, rather than doing what he wanted, which was scoop Stiles up and kiss him all over, anger flooded his body and his claws lengthened.

“Uh, everything, okay?” Stiles hovered by the door eyes flicking to Derek’s hands. 

“I…Stiles, I can’t…fuck. I don’t want to, don’t mean to…hurt you, keep hurting you, I just can’t…”

“Its okay, I get it. Last night never happened.” They stared at each other. “I, uh,” Stiles pointed over his shoulder, his eyes glistened. “I think I’m gonna head out. If that’s okay.”

Derek barely managed a nod as he tried to contain the urge to pin Stiles down, make him stay, to show him where he belonged. 

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked, crossing Stiles in the doorway.

“I’m not needed here this evening.”

“Off to see Parker?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s Friday, right.” Stiles glanced back at Derek. “Friday is date night. I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Stiles…” It was barely a whisper, but Derek knew Stiles heard it. Heard it and kept on walking. Derek looked down to see blood where his own claws were lodged in his thigh. Better that than in Stiles. It was good he had left. Derek needed to stay away from him for both their sakes. Things were already ugly, but a deep sense of foreboding told him it could be so much worse. 

 

**

 

Stiles made it back to the jeep before the flood gates broke open. He cursed himself for sobbing like a kid, but maybe that was the point, maybe that’s why Derek was the way he was…because Stiles was just a stupid kid with an embarrassing crush. But it was more than that, it had to be. There was something. There was always something ‘more’ in every interaction he had with Derek. Nothing was ordinary, it was always extreme. Good and bad, but always extreme. Last night Derek had practically worshipped him. Before he had tried to consume him entirely. Some kind of bizarre power play. Definitely supernatural. It had to be. 

Stiles’ body ached for Derek’s touch. The more he allowed the feelings to envelop him, the angrier he became. Supernatural bollocks. It was nothing more than another one of Derek’s mindfucks. Well, if that’s how he wanted it, fine. Stiles was hereby staying away from Derek for the rest of his life. For the rest of both their lives. Forever. He was going to go out and get laid. On his terms. No Peter, no Derek, no Derek handing him out to Peter’s friends. Parker couldn’t be the only guy who was interested in Stiles, not if the attention he got at Jungle was anything to go by. Anyone of those guys pressing against him on the dance floor would fuck him in a heartbeat, no questions asked. Maybe he’d just go fuck Parker. 

He started the jeep but turned it off again. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t do it to his friend. Stiles smashed his hands against the steering wheel repeatedly and dissolved into tears again. What the heck was wrong with him? Why the hell was he giving Derek so much power over him? That was easy. Derek was the Alpha. Derek was Stiles’ Alpha. Elemental fucking emissary, human alpha potential, but fuck it all to hell in a handbasket, he was still Hale Pack, and that made him Derek’s. He started the jeep again and headed home. Where he would curl up in his room and wait for a better day. 

 

It was a better day that never came. Saturday and Sunday passed by in a blur of tears and anger. He’d trashed and tidied his room twice already and the need to do it all over again was pressing in on him. He ignored Peter’s calls, Parker’s texts. It was late Sunday evening when the bubble broke. Stiles felt the presence before Derek climbed through the window. 

Derek. In his room. After everything. “What the hell do you want?”

Derek’s glare was more intense than usual. “Where have you been? I was expecting you yesterday.”

“For what? You’re the one who made it clear you don’t want me.”

Derek advanced on Stiles, pinning him against the wall. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Sure, I do. You’re just some sick fuck who likes to play power games. Well, you can fuck off. I don’t want anything to do with you outside of pack business.”

“This _is_ pack business. You belong to me.” Derek stroked a forceful hand over Stiles’ chest. “In anyway, in _everyway_ I decide.”

“No.” Stiles pushed, but Derek didn’t budge. “This isn’t right, Derek. This isn’t healthy.” The first rumble of fear started up in Stiles’ stomach as Derek pressed his face against Stiles’ neck and took a long, deep, breath.

“You smell so good,” Derek mused, and Stiles felt teeth, sharp incisors scratch at his skin. “If you won’t come to me, I’ll find you to take what’s mine.”

“It’s still no, Derek.”

“You don’t get to say no.”

“I do, and I am. This isn’t you, man, come on.”

“Oh, it’s me. It’s all me.”

“I’m going to tell you, one last time. Get out.”

But Derek didn’t get out until he’d taken what he came for leaving Stiles bruised and aching, and in his own damn bed. It hurt to move. So, he didn’t. He pulled the covers over himself and fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

_Stiles stared at the two Derek’s in front of him. His favourite Derek looked sad, apologetic. The other Derek snapped and snarled at the good Derek before turning to Stiles and laughing. It was then Stiles saw the bars, a cage surrounding good Derek as he moved farther and farther away. Stiles reached for him, but snarling Derek held him back. A group of people now guarded the cage in front of good Derek. Most of them men Stiles didn’t recognise, but two faces he did. Two women. Kate Argent, and Jennifer Blake. They smirked at Stiles and waved two different sets of keys at him. Stiles stopped struggling against the other Derek and stared. Was this a dream or something more? Stiles looked at each man around the cage in turn. All of them, wolves. Was this, could this be Derek’s past? The Derek holding him snapped and snarled in Stiles’ face and good Derek disappeared._

Stiles woke in a sweat and winced as he sat up too quickly. He tried to catalogue everything he’d seen but it was already slipping away. He flopped back onto the bed. He didn’t care what it meant, Derek was a sick fuck, and Stiles wanted nothing more to do with him. That was it. The end. No more fretting. First thing in the morning, Stiles was going to see Deaton about some mountain ash for his window, because fuck if he was going to be violated in his own fucking room again. If Derek was going to get freaky, he’d have to track him down outside or save it for pack meetings. In fact, he wasn’t going to any more pack meetings. He’d still see Peter, Stiles rubbed at his cheekbone and flinched—once the bruising had faded—but that was it. Stiles was putting his foot down. Quite how you put your foot down against an Alpha werewolf who happened to be _your_ Alpha werewolf, Stiles wasn’t sure, and fucking hell even after what had just happened Stiles couldn’t bring himself to cut Derek off completely. Stiles sighed heavily. If he still couldn’t find it in his heart to hate Derek, what hope did he have of keeping him away? The thought passed through his mind to leave Beacon Hills. To move to Berkeley ahead of schedule. Even that felt wrong. Stiles was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a quitter. It would be okay.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware..triggers, triggers, triggers...
> 
> ...Stiles finds a coping mechanism for the shitstorm that is his life.

It carried on like that for the next couple of weeks. Derek would turn up every couple of days, Stiles would say no, and Derek would fuck him anyway. Every time Stiles promised himself he’d get some mountain ash for his window, or some wolfsbane for his bedside table, and every time he ‘forgot’. Yeah, right, that excuse was wearing thin even to his own ears. Peter kept asking Stiles what was wrong, but he couldn’t tell him, was too ashamed to admit he was letting it happen. Not that he could do anything to stop Derek—bar the mountain ash and wolfsbane that he couldn’t bring himself to use. Stiles wasn’t sure how to get through the days any more. The darkness in Derek was about to swallow him completely, and all those plans for college, for emissary training, for a life away from Beacon Hills, a life of his own, were being choked off, dying inside, just like he was.

It was after a particularly rough visit that Stiles decided he had to do something, change something, anything. He longed for that one night at Jungle, the soft touch of a Derek who cared. He may not be able to recreate that night, but he could damn well try and the way to do it was to stop moping around and get back out there. If he was going to be used as an object he may as well get some enjoyment on the side. 

He picked out an expensive outfit and headed to Jungle. He took one look at the queue and thought fuck it. He’d been there enough times with Peter now for security to recognise him. He walked straight to the front and winked at the security guard. He could do this. Bravado was his middle name. 

“No Peter, this evening?” the guy asked. 

“No, I’m flying solo tonight.”

“Check in with Reed before you start breaking hearts. I’ll be in later to check you have your toddler stamp.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stiles collected his ‘no alcohol’ stamp at the desk and was about to head into the club when one of the security guys pulled him to one side. He tried not to wince as the guy’s hand tightened on one of the newer bruises he acquired. “Uh, can I help you?” Stiles swallowed as his eyes followed the muscles up to the guys face. Fuck, he was all kinds of gorgeous. And that was saying something against Peter and ‘that wolf he didn’t like to think about any more with the same surname as Peter’.

“I’m Reed. Peter said to watch out for you if you ever came in alone.”

“Good old, Pete.” Stiles managed a smile. 

“You check in with me before you leave.”

Stiles saluted. “Will do, boss man.”

“Be careful in there. Stay to the upper floors where there’s more security. We’re vigilant but you could still end up on your knees with a cock down your throat before we get to you.”

“Nothing new there then.” Stiles flinched at the heavy bitterness in his voice and avoided the concerned look from Reed. Stiles tried for a smirk to take the edge off. He’d come here to shake off his depression, after all, not announce it to the world. It seemed to work because Reed smiled.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be here on your own.”

“I appreciate the concern.” Stiles gave Reed another once over. Definite interest there. “Let me know how I can replay you.”

Reed chuffed a laugh. “I’ve got a break at midnight.”

Stiles patted a hand over Reed’s chest. “Come and find me, big guy. I’ll rock your world.” Reed grinned, and Stiles walked away feeling good at how easy it was to sell himself, especially after such a dry start to his sex life and those desperate years he thought he’d die a virgin. And, hello, why he’d been keeping himself for that Hale, even Peter, he had no idea. It was time Stiles started enjoying his body on his own terms. 

 

He danced up a storm with hot bodies pressed against him, hands stroking and groping, scorching kisses with strangers, but now he really needed a drink. He headed to the bar, collected a bottle of water and perched himself on a bar stool. He knocked back half the bottle before a guy pressed against him reaching for the bar. “Oh, hey,” the guy said, he was about Stiles’ age, “you have the dreaded stamp, same as me.” He waved his hand to show the inky pacifier. “I’m Jake. Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, just needed to get out, blow off some steam.”

“Me too. Deadlines coming up, too much to do. What’s your name?”

Stiles didn’t know why he did it. It was out of his mouth before his brain caught up with him. “Scott. My name’s Scott.”

They flirted for a while, laughed, touched, kissed. “You, uh, you want to get out of here?” Jake said against Stiles’ ear. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.” As he turned to leave he caught sight of Reed watching him. He raised his hand, and Reed nodded.

“You know that guy?”

Again, Stiles let his mouth run away before engaging his brain. “Yeah, security always look out for me. Especially when I’m on my own. Reed is like a big mama bear.”

Jake paused. “You now what, I think I’m going to call it a night. Maybe we can rain check?”

“Oh, uh, sure, okay.” Stiles watched Jake disappear into the crowd without a glance over his shoulder. “Well, fuck.” He headed over to Reed. “You scared off my boy, Reed. Look’s like you’ll have to take care of me yourself.”

“That can be arranged.” Reed led Stiles through a staff only door and into a side room. “What are you offering, pretty boy?”

“Whatever you want, beefcake.” Stiles slipped to his knees and unzipped Reed’s pants. Reed’s cock was big. Fat rather than long, and Stiles struggled to get his lips around it, but hell did it feel good pounding into him as he gripped the edges of the only table in the room. “Oh, god, that’s it. Fuck me harder.” Reed pulled out and flipped Stiles onto his back before ramming back in. He reached for Stiles’ cock. “No, I’ll…I’ll finish it later.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “Fucking more than me tonight then?”

“I hadn’t planned on it, but now you’ve said it, yeah, why not?” Stiles let his head fall back against the table and took everything Reed had to offer. By the time he was back on his feet, his legs were shaky, and he was hard as granite. “That was fun.” He grinned at Reed as he pulled his pants back on. 

“What happened to that kid you were talking to?”

“No idea. He was totally up for it until he thought I knew you, and security.”

Reed paused briefly, then continued to straighten himself out. “You’re sure it was because I was security?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Are you sure you want to pick up something else to help you with that,” Reed asked gesturing to Stiles’ cock. “Or can you spare five minutes to speak to the manager?”

“Colour me intrigued.” Stiles adjusted himself, willing his erection into ‘stand-by’. “Lead the way…”

 

Stiles felt sick to his stomach. “Are you sure that’s what it was?”

The manager, an older good-looking guy, probably about Peter’s age, was nodding and looking serious. “We’ve been working with local law enforcement, but the gang spots their decoys a mile away. We’ve had four kids abducted and gangraped from the car park in the last six weeks. All of them under twenty-one, and all of them left with another kid with a pacifier stamp.”

“They’re pushed into a van outside, taken to another location where they’re raped by four men, and then dropped at the side of the road,” Reed added. “That’s what the cops have told us anyway. We’d like you to give them a statement.”

“Shit,” Stiles let his head fall into his hands. “That’s where this gets interesting,” he said looking directly at Reed. “The Sheriff? Yeah, that’s my dad. He is not going to be impressed, and if he really thinks I was in danger tonight, I’m going to be under lock and key for the rest of forever.”

Reed hid his surprise and discomfort well. “Please tell me you’re eighteen.”

“I am. But that isn’t going to stop him freaking out at the thought of me picking up strangers at a club.”

“But he knows you’re gay,” the manager said.

“Yeah. Still not going to help. Shit, fuck, fuck.” Where was Peter when you needed him?

“Okay,” Reed said putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You carry on and enjoy yourself, and I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can come up with something that won’t make it look as though you were almost caught up in it.” He smiled. “Everything will look better in the morning.”

“For you maybe.”

“Go and fuck something young and hot. It really will seem better afterwards.” Reed grinned. “Trust me.”

 

Stiles wasn’t really feeling the groove when he made it back to the dance floor. He stood watching the goings on with new eyes, imagining every guy as a suspect or a potential victim. He wondered if Danny knew the risks, or whether his fake ID protected him. Stiles had been watching for what seemed like forever when one of the security guys came over with a kid in tow. “Reed said I should introduce you to Ben. He’s here on his own too, and we usually keep an eye on him for his,” the guy used air parenthesis, “uncle, when 'uncle' isn’t here.”

“You mean like my ‘uncle’ Peter?”

The guy grinned. “Just like that, yes.” Ben waved at Stiles as the guy disappeared. 

“Hey.”

Ben was nice looking, wavy blond hair, slender but muscular. Much like Stiles really. Something in Stiles’ chest tightened. He was tired. Demoralised by his latest experience. He didn’t want to stay, but he didn’t want to go home either. “You want to get out of here and find something to eat?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

Stiles and Ben checked in with Reed before they left the club. They took the short walk to the local diner in relative silence. Once they’d settled into a booth and ordered they started talking. “You have a rich uncle who looks out for you?”

Ben laughed. “Yeah, buys me stuff and fucks the living daylights out of me. You too, huh?”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah. But hey, he’s paying for me to go to college, and he taught me everything I know. And he’s hot as hell.”

“Mine too. Greg is so sweet. I’d still be fucking him without the financial benefits. Hey, maybe we should double date.”

“Peter would definitely want to fuck you. He’ll also want to know where you got those boots.”

It was an instant friendship. Stiles hadn’t realised how lonely he still was until he could offload with someone his own age. Someone who wasn’t quite as naïve as Parker, who understood the draw of older guys, and not just for their money. Ben was already at college, but he was only six months older than Stiles. They ate, and laughed, and just kicked back. “You want to stay at my place, tonight? We could head into the city tomorrow, go shopping.”

“Sounds great.” Stiles threw a handful of notes on the table and followed Ben outside. It was almost dawn. They took a steady walk to Ben’s apartment, and fucked like rabbits, showing off the various techniques they’d picked up from their sugar-daddies. It was liberating, fucking because you were young and horny, fucking because someone new turned you on, fucking for yourself, fucking someone your own age…and Stiles felt like a million dollars by the time he fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles discovers a new distraction to all things supernatural.

Ben was wandering around the apartment naked when Stiles finally woke up. “I made breakfast. You want coffee?”

“Thanks.” Stiles took in the apartment. It was nice. “You got a good deal here.”

“Greg pays half.” Ben shrugged. “He didn’t want to have to slum it in college dorms.” Hmm, that was fair enough, though Peter would hardly be slumming it if he visited Stiles at college. 

“He doesn’t mind that you sleep around?”

Ben laughed. “God, no. He likes it. Says it keeps me in shape. I’d like to keep in touch with you, if you want that is.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Stiles helped himself to a bacon sandwich. “I had fun,” he said around a mouthful. So much fun. “And besides, you are hot.”

Ben smirked. “Good. You aren’t so bad yourself, you know.” He handed Stiles a mug of coffee. “Hey, I can hook you up at some parties too, if you’re interested.”

“What does that entail, exactly?”

“Usually older guys, plenty of money.” Ben shrugged. “Not always pretty, but they take care of you and you are guaranteed to be well and truly fucked by the end of the night. It’s not…” Ben fidgeted. “I don’t fuck them for money. It’s not prostitution. There’s nothing illegal going on, it’s just kinky fun with guys who like to spoil their boys.”

Kinky fun. Stiles didn’t even think about it. “Sign me up.” He took a mouthful of coffee and grabbed another sandwich. Things were looking up after all.

 

They fucked again—Stiles was so digging the opportunity to top a younger guy--and were out at lunch by the time Reed phoned Stiles. “Yeah, man, thanks for the intro to Ben. He’s sound. I’ll stop by the club after lunch.”

Stiles explained the situation to Ben, who agreed to go with him to speak to Reed. Stiles snatched a handful of curly fries and jammed them into his mouth.

“You still interested in some action?” Ben whispered across the table and breaking off the end of a fry hanging from Stiles’ lips. Stiles cock twitched as Ben popped it into his mouth and grinned.

“Sure, why?”

“That guy over there has been watching us since he sat down. I think he’s a player.”

Stiles tried to be stealthy as he glanced over. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Ben leaned in closer, “he’s looking to fuck. You interested?” Stiles nodded. His heart was thumping. How had he gone so long without sex in his life when the offer of it was everywhere? Ben stood up and winked at Stiles. “Follow my lead.”

Stiles followed Ben, who slipped in to the seat opposite their new friend. “Hi, I’m Ben. This is my friend, Scott. How are you today?”

“Good, thank you. I, uh…I’m Jeremy.”

“I saw you watching us. Did you see something you liked?” Jeremey took a bashful glance at Stiles. “Ah, you like Scott?” Jeremy nodded. Ben leaned across the table, his ass in the air. “He’s great at sucking cock. He’ll suck yours if you want him to.” Jeremy blushed. “Do you want him to suck you off, Jeremy?” Jeremy glanced at Stiles again and nodded. “Can I watch?” Jeremy nodded again. 

“I uh, I could ask my husband,” Jeremy said. “He’d like you.”

“Ooo, even better.” Ben glanced at Stiles and winked again. “We have somewhere to be this afternoon. How about we get together later? Do you have a card?” Jeremy’s hand was shaking as he handed over a business card. He was a lawyer. “We’ll call you.”

“But…”

“But what, Jeremy? If you don’t ask, sweetie…”

“Now?”

Ben looked at Stiles, and Stiles nodded, still amazed at how Ben had picked up on the guy’s need. “Come on then, Jeremy. Let’s find a nice quiet place.”

 

The quiet place was Jeremy’s Lexus. Stiles sucked Jeremy off while Ben made a thorough job of fucking Stiles. Stiles made a mental note that the Lexus was very roomy. 

“How much?” Jeremy said once they were done.

“Oh, no charge, sweetie,” Ben said, tucking his cock away. “We fuck because we love it. Isn’t that right. Scott?”

Stiles grinned. So far, the day had been a revelation. A million miles from emissaries, elementals, and fucking werewolves. Exactly what he needed. Stiles was happy to camp out in his new Lalaland for the foreseeable future. “Absolutely.” He grinned at Ben. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

 

Reed eyed Stiles hungrily through the meeting at the club. They came up with a plan that would make it seem as though Stiles had happened upon the investigation at Jungle and offered to help. Ben, a little confused to find out Scott was really Stiles, and the son of the Sheriff agreed to help as long as he could keep calling Stiles Scott. It was a win-win. They left the club, and the plan in Reed’s hands and were just heading back to Ben’s when Peter called. “Derek is furious, he can’t find you.”

“I saw him yesterday.” Was it only yesterday? It’s seemed like a million years ago and a lot of cocks. “D’you know what, fine. Okay. I’ll be over now.” He glanced at Ben. Stiles wasn’t ready to give him up just yet. “Uhm, can I bring a friend? He wants to meet you.”

So much for staying away. It irked Stiles that he was playing into Derek’s hands, giving him permission this time by turning up on request, but the last thing he wanted was to be stalked by a damn werewolf while he was at a party getting fucked senseless by strangers. When they arrived at the loft Peter took one look at Ben and whisked him off to his room leaving Stiles alone with Derek. “He fucked you,” Derek said, scenting the air. It wasn’t with malice, more interest. No sign of the usual possessive crapfest. He could probably smell Jeremy too, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said, standing his ground. “I figured I should know what it’s like to choose my partners.”

“Is that right? Remember it was you who asked for this, Stiles. Insisted, actually.” Derek didn’t say anything else, just pushed Stiles over the back of the sofa, bared his ass, and fucked straight into him without prep or lube. Stiles hated that he was hard by the end of it, his body responding against his will. He slipped off to the bathroom to finish himself, using images of Ben from the night before to sweeten the deal. 

Ben was all smiles when Peter had finished with him and Stiles had a pang of jealousy. Not because he didn’t want to share Peter—or Ben—but because he knew how different their encounter would have been compared to his wham-bam-get-the-fuck-out-of-my-sight tryst with Derek. As they prepared to leave, Peter pulled Stiles aside. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Everything is fine. You liked Ben?”

“Nice little fuck, thank you. Oh, here,” Peter handed Stiles a wallet. “It’s just pin money, really.”

Stiles opened the wallet to find three credit cards in his name. So not what he needed right now. “Peter, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. We’ve talked about this.” Stiles huffed but took the wallet. Peter smiled and stroked his cheek. “Now go have fun with Ben. He’s going to be good for you. Get you away from all this nonsense. Just…be careful, okay?”

Stiles paused. “Careful how?”

“I’ve met young guys like Ben before. You don’t have to worry about him, but just be mindful of the places he takes you and the men you’ll meet.” Stiles nodded, and hugged Peter tight. He wanted it, what Ben was offering, but at the same time he longed for simpler times where he didn’t feel the need to escape his own mind, his own skin.

“Thanks, Peter. We’ll catch up soon, yeah?”

“I’d like that, Stiles. When you’re ready.” It was a simple statement but given what he was going through with Derek it meant so much Stiles thought he might tear-up. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just been a long month.” Stiles kissed Peter tenderly. “I’ll call you.”

 

“Peter really is something,” Ben said as they left the loft. “Who’s the other guy?”

“Derek? Oh, he’s Peter’s nephew.” Ben raised an eyebrow. “It’s a complicated family.”

“And you fuck them both?”

“Yeah, well, I kind of knew Derek first, so you know…”

“Derek was all kinds of gorgeous, I’ll give you that, but a bit…”

“Grumpy?”

“I was going to go with menacing, but I guess grumpy works too.” Stiles didn’t have much to say to that. “I’ll give Jeremy a call, set something up.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“With the two of us, yeah. I wouldn’t do it on my own.”

“Okay then, let’s set up a date night.”

Ben called Jeremy before heading home to get some work done, and Stiles headed home to discuss sting operations at the club with his dad.


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles moaned lightly with the sweep of Jeremy’s tongue over his hole. “You are so exquisite,” Jeremy cooed. “So responsive.” He sat back and swatted Stiles’ ass with a paddle before leaning in to lick over the reddened skin. “That’s right, let Jeremy take care of you.” 

Jeremy and his husband Bernard were indeed players. And Ben and Stiles had found themselves in the midst of a very interesting evening. Well, being trussed up like a turkey and subjected to waves of pleasure counted as interesting in Stiles’ mind, which was pretty impressive considered the last few years. 

It had been two years since the couple had ‘played’, and their interests ran to light bondage, which Ben was used to, and Stiles agreed to try out. So far it was a roaring success if Stiles rock hard cock was anything to go by. Hedonist in the making, he definitely was. Peter would be proud. Bernard had already fucked Stiles, and was concentrating his efforts on Ben, while Jeremy was rewarding Stiles for being such a good little fuck for his husband and had promised to make sure Stiles would be so well fucked he wouldn’t need anyone else for a week, which in reality would be unlikely. Stiles had developed an itch for frequent fucking. Or maybe it was better described as an itch for variety. Now he’d broken out of the Hales’ grasp he couldn’t get enough of the elated feelings, that hit of endorphins, every time he fucked someone new. Every time he fucked someone who wasn’t Derek.

Stiles was still surprised fucking strangers was so easy. He’d been back to Jungle and fucked Reed again and another security guard whose name he couldn’t remember but had fucked like a freight train, as well as been thoroughly fucked by Ben’s ‘uncle’ Greg. It was the only way Stiles felt his body was his own—giving it to anyone who wanted it, when he couldn’t keep Derek from taking it. Because that was also becoming a frequent thing. Derek’s once a week with a little extra if Peter was enjoying Stiles too much had become every other day. Every time Stiles said no, asked Derek to stop, and every time Derek took it anyway. At least the bruising had eased off. Probably because Stiles didn’t fight it anymore, didn’t need to be held in place.

Stiles gripped the bed frame his hands were tied to, as Jeremy rammed into his sore, abused hole with a massive dildo before pulling out and intermittently fucking Stiles with his cock. The soft leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles were a world away from the painful vice of Derek’s hands, and rather than fear induced tension, his whole body felt like jello. It was amazing, and the feeling went on an on until Stiles floated on a cloud of bliss somewhere just outside his body. 

When Jeremy finally made him come, Stiles thought it would never end, the orgasm pushed on and on through his body until he couldn’t take anymore, and he actually blacked out for a moment. Jeremy stroked and petted Stiles, bathed him, and wrapped him in a crisp clean bed to rest. “Ben will be with you shortly, gorgeous boy. You get some sleep. You were beautiful.” 

 

When Stiles came around, Ben was sat on the bed, knees to his chest, tackle on full display. “Hey, sleepy head. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing.” Stiles grinned. “What time is it?”

“Time we left. I guess you haven’t been sleeping much lately, huh?”

Stiles sat up and looked around for his clothes. “Is it that obvious?” 

“I wiped out like that after my first couple of scenes.” 

They started to dress. “It was really intense.” Stiles stretched languidly, feeling comfortable in his body for the first time in so long. “I could definitely go for that again.”

“It’s all about finding the right partner, though.” Ben threw Stiles his shirt. “When you’re searching out strangers, the fit isn’t always so great.”

“As in not good?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’ve had a couple of bad experiences.” Stiles felt the tightness in Ben’s tone and decided not to ask for details. “That’s why I only party when I have someone else with me.” Safety in numbers rather than being at the mercy of a group of strangers. Stiles could get behind that. Not that he was sure what either of them could have done if Bernard and Jeremy had decided to get extra freaky after tying them up, or even brought friends in to enjoy the entertainment. Stiles shuddered at the thought, remembering Peter’s friends at the loft, but also noted the twitch of enthusiasm his cock gave at the thought of being tied up and used by as many men as wanted him. Hedonist with a twist of kink thrown in. “You okay?”

Stiles startled at Ben’s voice. “Oh, yeah, just…”

“I lost you for a moment there. Had some bad experiences yourself, huh?”

“You could say that. But…” How did he ask if it was normal for the bad experiences to also be good ones without sounded totally fucked in the head? 

“I get it,” Ben said. He slipped on his boots and stood, offering Stiles a hand up. “Sometimes the not so good stuff gives us ideas of what could be good when framed in a different way.”

Stiles took his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Exactly that.”

“I know I like being tied up because some asshole did it without asking me. For the whole fucking day. He even had his mates round for coffee with me tied up naked in the corner. Terrifying.” Ben rubbed his hands over his thighs. “But fuck, if I don’t go back to that day over and over when I’m jerking off. Even extending the fantasy to his friends taking turns.” Ben huffed. “Sick, right?”

Stiles shrugged. “Each to their own. Besides, kind of sums up what I was thinking about myself.”

Ben laughed. “What a pair we make. Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast.”

They said their goodbyes to Bernard and Jeremy with promises to stay in touch and headed to the diner. 

 

“Who do you usually take with you?” Stiles asked, continuing their earlier conversation. The smell of bacon made his stomach gurgle and he realised he hadn’t eaten in too long. “Do your friends from college know?”

Ben choked on his coffee. After he’d composed himself, he shook his head. “Hell no. And I suggest you keep it quiet too. There’s nothing to tank your rep faster than knowing that you’re gay, promiscuous, and kinked. I had to transfer during my first semester.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah, I was getting hate mail, having things thrown at me as I walked through campus. There are some seriously repressed kids in college, man, and they like nothing better than to heap all the attention and hate on someone else.”

“Huh, good to know.”

He dabbed at the spots of coffee on the table with a napkin. “I have a couple of friends I can call on. We watch out for each other. I’ll introduce you around.”

“And how often do you hook up like last night?” For now, Stiles felt content, but it would be interesting to see how long it took for that familiar itch to start up again and burrow into his body until he couldn’t ignore it.

“Maybe once a month or so, more if I need to get out of my head for a while.”

“I can appreciate that.”

Ben tilted his head and really looked at Stiles. Stiles didn’t know what he saw, but he frowned a little. “If you ever need to talk about…stuff. I mean, I know we haven’t known each other very long, but,” Ben reached across the table and touched the back of Stiles’ hand,” I’m here for you, man. I know what it’s like trying to branch out on your own. It can’t have been easy, being the Sheriff’s son.”

“It hasn’t been so bad. More that I’ve been on my own, I guess.” Ben nodded. 

“Who’s Scott?”

“Ah, yeah, now there is a painful story with that one.”

“First crush?”

“God, no.” Stiles took a deep laboured breath. He hated that it still hurt to think about it. “No, he was just the best friend who dumped me as soon as the cool kids noticed him. It doesn’t matter.” And suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore, even with half a bacon sandwich staring at him from his plate. “I, uh, I should get going.”

“Stiles?” Stiles looked back over his shoulder. It was the first time Ben had called him by his real name. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to get better.”

Stiles gave Ben a tired smile. “I know. Call me, yeah?”

“Sure.” Stiles left Ben to his breakfast and broke out into the morning sun. It was a beautiful day. A new day. A day in which Stiles could except his kinks and allow himself to enjoy them rather than try to break them down and categorise their reasons and meaning. So he liked to be tied up, so fucking what. So, he liked fucking strangers. Big deal. So did a good proportion of the population these days. Kinked didn’t mean wrong, regardless of how you found out about it, it was just added flavour. But, god, he was tired. He smiled to himself because for the first time in a long time it was a good tired, an over exertion tired, not the soul breaking mental tired that made him question his existence. Today was a good day.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Stiles thought his life was complicated enough...

It was a luxury to crash in his own bed and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Stiles didn’t feel fully refreshed when he surfaced part way through the afternoon, but he wasn’t far off. He texted his dad to see what time he’d be home for tea and set about cooking up a storm. It felt good. It felt normal. Maybe familiar was a better word. Something familiar in a crazy new world. Veggies, lean chicken, baked potatoes. He even threw in a side salad and a beer for his dad. 

“Oh, god,” the Sheriff said when he saw the table. “Have you managed to get a boy pregnant? Because you could, I know you could.”

“Dad,” Stiles screeched in his best scandalised voice. “I just thought I’d make an effort. We don’t seem to see each other much these days.”

“Okay, and?”

“I still want to help with the thing at Jungle.”

“No. I’m not putting you at risk.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me what was going on there.”

The Sheriff shucked out of his jacket, his features tight. “I didn’t want you to worry. It’s all still new to you, and I didn’t want you to be afraid to go out and enjoy yourself.”

“You’re lying, dad. I know you are.”

“Fine. I hoped you wouldn’t be out picking up strangers.” They stared at each other. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you bypass the whole dating thing, right?” Stiles opened and closed his mouth. “You are being safe out there, right son? You said Peter was looking out for you.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Stiles could still feel the imprints of Jeremey’s paddle on his ass and remember the king size dildo tickling his tonsils. He rubbed a hand automatically over his wrist where the cuff had been. He had to be blushing. No way his dad wouldn’t see right through him, just hopefully not to the kinky stuff. 

“Oh, Stiles, please tell me you haven’t been having one-night stands with guys you don’t know.”

“No, I haven’t.” That part at least was sort of true. Maybe. Kind of. Not yet anyways, but it was on his to-do list.

“Well, that’s all right then.” His dad put his gun away and sat at the table. “Let’s eat.”

 

With the remains of dinner cleared away, Stiles headed back to his room. He was deciding whether to research elementals or hit up his neglected Xbox, when he heard the doorbell, followed by his dad calling him. As he opened his bedroom door, he was surprised to see Isaac in the hall. “Your dad said to come on up.”

“Sure, come on in.” Stiles closed the door and hovered as Isaac sat at his desk. Werewolves had slipped sweetly into the background overnight and it was disconcerting having one suddenly in front of you. Especially when it wasn’t one of the usual visitors these days. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry.” Isaac gripped the edge of Stiles’ desk and spun the chair. “About the way Scott’s treating you.” The chair stopped moving and Isaac looked down at his hands picking at his finger nails. “The way I’ve treated you. I was scared.” He relaxed a fraction and spun around on the chair again. “I didn’t want to lose him, and he didn’t want me talking to you.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Isaac spun around again, and Stiles put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“Isaac, why?”

Isaac shrugged. “I wanted you first, I guess.”

Stiles’ brain stalled. Isaac wanted…“What?”

“Are you sleeping with Derek and Peter?”

“Am I? Focus, Isaac. What do you mean you wanted me first?”

“Scott’s refusing to fuck me,” he continued matter of factly. “We do lots of stuff together. Handjobs, blowjobs—well, I do him—rubbing off together, but he won’t fuck me. Do you know why?”

“I have no idea and you’ve skipped a step.”

Isaac sighed. “I’ve had a crush on you for years, Stiles. I thought you knew and just weren’t interested, thought you were holding out for Derek.” Stiles reeled at this new information and flopped down onto his bed. “When Scott split with Alison, we started hanging out and I told him I was gay. He wanted to experiment, said he liked me that way. I said I liked him too, but I liked you more.”

“You liked me more than Scott?” Isaac nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Scott said you were in love with Lydia, that you weren’t interested in guys. But you are, aren’t you? He lied because he wanted me for himself.”

“Why would he do that?” Stiles said as much to himself as to Isaac. Why the fuck would anyone do that, but especially Scott back then when they were still as BFF as you could be?

Isaac shrugged. “You were in love with Lydia for so long, I guess it was easier to believe him.”

“I was never in love with Lydia, not really. It was more of a crush on what I perceived at the time to be perfection.” And hadn’t that little nugget been a revelation when he’d fully processed it. So much wasted time. Had he realised sooner he may have made a pass or two at Danny and then who the hell knows where he’d be now. Probably not here, that was for sure. “Why are you telling me this now?”< /p>

Isaac practically folded in on himself. Just the way he used to when he talked about his dad. “He was so angry last week, because I was talking to you. He thinks you’re going to steal me away from him. But how could you, right? If you’re not gay. But you are, aren’t you? And he knew.”

“Scott’s known I was bi since seventh grade. He was always cool with it. But why are you telling me this after what, ten months of pretending I don’t exist?”

A single tear rolled over Isaac’s cheek and Stiles had the urge to run for the hills. “I thought he…I thought he loved me, Stiles.”

“But…”

“He said he walked in on you and Derek. When he forgot his jacket weeks ago.” God, that felt more like an eternity ago. “Said you two were obviously fucking. He thinks you’re fucking Derek to get back at him for taking me away from you. And that can’t be true, because I wasn’t with you in the first place.” Isaac ran a hand through his hair, gave a sniff, and mopped up the tear. “He’s just been lying to me the whole time, and I don’t know why he’s got it in for you, why he suddenly hates you so much.”

“Don’t look at me, I have no idea either.” Stiles tried to keep a check on the anger threatening to bubble over. Everything he’d been through, the loneliness, the pain, the mess with Derek, letting Derek hand him out to strangers—old men—all because Scott wanted Isaac for himself? He startled when he realised Isaac was stood in front of him. 

Isaac ran a hand through Stiles’ hair and held his cheek gently. “I still want you, Stiles.”

“You’re with Scott.”

“We’re not exclusive. At least he’s not. I saw him with a girl. They were kissing.” Isaac sighed. “He won’t fuck me because he doesn’t really want me. He just doesn’t want you to have me.”

“And you think me fucking you, and Scott smelling me on you is going to change that?” Stiles pushed Isaac’s hand away, angry for a whole different reason and battling with a new war growing deep in his belly. 

“No…”

He stood up, pushing Isaac away and spinning to face him. “I’m sick of being used by those who are supposed to care for me, my family. What’s wrong with you?”

“That’s not it, Stiles.” Isaac stepped towards him, but Stiles moved back. “I’ll hide the scent, I promise. I just want _you_ , I don’t care what he thinks anymore, I don’t have to keep myself for him, and I want to show you I’m sorry. I want to make things right with you.”

“Isaac…”

“Please, Stiles.” He stepped in again. “It’s not to get at him. It’s for me, for you, what should have been.”

“I can’t.”

Isaac nodded in resignation. “Are you seeing someone? Is it Parker? Derek said you weren’t with him anymore.”

Did he now? How the fuck had Derek known anything about Parker in the first place? “No. Well, not exclusively. I just…it’s too much too soon.”

“Will you think about it?”

“Okay. I guess so.” A whole new Lalaland opened before Stiles and he felt like he was falling off a cliff.

“We don’t have to tell anyone. Unless you want to tell Derek.”

“Hell no. that would not be a good idea.”

Stiles thought Isaac was going to leave, but instead he launched himself at Stiles and kissed him hard and passionate. Whether it was the shock, or the phenomenal amount of sex Stiles had had the last few days, but despite early protestations Stiles found himself responding, feeling out forbidden skin, the heat under Isaac’s shirt, following the treasure trail into Isaac’s jeans and grasping his long, slender cock. He paused, and Isaac pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t, Isaac. I want to, but it’s too messed up.” I want to, but I said no, and you tried to take it anyway. But not really. Isaac was hurting, Stiles could feel it seeping out of him into the room, the need to close, maybe even the need to have what you wanted rather than having to compromise. 

Isaac stepped back, straightened his clothes, his smile sad. “You’ll keep it in mind though?”

Isaac looked torn in two, and Stiles’ heart broke just a little for him. “I don’t have anything to offer you, Isaac.”

“It doesn’t have to be a regular thing. I…it’s okay. I get it. You’re just not into me.” Isaac swallowed hard. “Why would you be, if you’re with Derek.”

“Fuck, I’m not with Derek.” Stiles sighed. Isaac kissed his cheeks, his eyelids, and lastly his forehead, stroked his cheek. Stiles looked into his big, puppy eyes, and he was lost. Fuck Derek, fuck Scott, trying to keep this from him when he knew—Scott knew Stiles would have gone for Isaac in a second if he’d known. Stiles could have had an ordinary start in his sex life, could have dated, taken things slow instead of being fucked over the back of the sofa by two guys his first time. Scott had taken that from him, had denied him and to make it worse had cut him off after so many years, had taken his only friends. 

No more.

Stiles pulled Isaac into a long, sensual kiss. This time he didn’t stop when he reached Isaac’s cock. He stripped them both of their clothes and took his time to open Isaac up before fucking him so thoroughly, he wondered if his dad was going to complain about the noise. Once they were done, and Isaac was getting dressed, Stiles thought he should feel bad. But in reality, he felt great. Isaac kissed him once more and gave a shy smile. 

“Thanks, Stiles. I’d like to do it again, if you want to, some time. No attachments,” he added quickly.

Stiles hugged him. Kissed his cheek, his lips. “I’d like that too. Just, look after yourself, okay.”

Stiles walked Isaac out and they kissed a little on the doorstep. When he turned back to the house his dad was waiting for him. “Uh, about that.”

His dad put up a hand. “Don’t even…next time at least give me the heads up so I can go for a walk or something. The kid moans louder than a grizzly bear.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“So, the Lahey kid, is he a boyfriend?”

“Not really. Please don’t freak out. I just…don’t want to settle down just yet, you know?”

“He’s still technically a suspect in his Father’s murder.”

“It would have been self-defence.”

“As long as I don’t find Derek Hale on my doorstep next.”

“I…what?” How the hell did his dad know? He couldn’t know. If he did, if he even suspected what Derek was up to he’d have arrested him. Hell, he’d have buried him in the woods somewhere. His dad was good like that. 

“As long as you’re safe.” His dad’s words brought him out of the daydream. “And careful, Stiles. Promise me you’re always careful, what with this gang we have operating in town.”

“Careful.” Stiles nodded. “I promise.”


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles bounced between Peter, Ben, and Jungle for the rest of the week. He didn’t fuck every day, but on the days he did it was usually more than once. Derek helped himself as usual, and every time he did, Stiles was on edge until he could get out and fuck on his own terms. College couldn’t come soon enough. A fresh start. Maybe Stiles would find a nice boy, have a proper relationship. He doubted Derek would take time out to drive the four hours to get his fix. He’d be free of it. 

He’d agreed to meet Peter at Derek’s before the latest pack meeting. They had college stuff to discuss, and Peter was talking about them getting away for a couple of days for a holiday. The loft was quiet when he arrived, although he was aware of Derek shuffling around the kitchen. Stiles hung up his jacket, but before he could get any further the door to the loft opened and Scott crashed in and pinned him to the wall. Stiles knew from experience Scott was ten seconds away from wolfing out. “You stay away from Isaac, do you hear me? He’s mine.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He refused to see me for a couple of days and when I finally track him down he stinks of you.” Scott thumped Stiles against the wall again, and Stiles saw claws. Fuck. “I will end you, Stiles, if you…” Scott disappeared in a guttural roar followed by a yelp. Stiles fell forward to his knees before realising he’d been saved by Derek. 

Derek had Scott pinned to the floor, growling in his face. “Derek,” Stiles called over the noise. “I’m okay, man.” Derek flashed a look at him, eyes burning red. “It’s okay.”

Derek looked back at Scott. “You don’t touch him. You don’t threaten him. Ever.” Scott nodded, hands up in surrender. “In fact, from now on you will ask my permission before you even speak to him.”

“Got it,” Scott patted Derek’s arm and Derek let go, stepping back so Scott could sit up. Scott glared at Stiles. “I knew you guys were fucking.” Derek was on him again, roaring in his face, teeth bared.

“It’s none of your business what we do. I don’t need another Alpha in this pack, Scott. If you like it here, you may want to think about that.” He stepped off again but put a boot on Scott’s chest. “And Isaac doesn’t belong to you. He’s mine. If I decide he should spend more time with Stiles, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.”

“It was you? You told him to see Stiles?” Scott’s claws emerged again, but he kept a handle on his wolf and breathed through it. “Why would you do that?”

“Maybe I don’t like the way you treat the sweetest kid you’ll ever know. Maybe I decided he needed a break from moping about you fucking around on him.”

“I didn’t…I, god, it was one kiss. I can’t believe he told you.”

Stiles was completely lost, and dumbfounded, and hurt. Again. Isaac had offered himself to Stiles because Derek had told him to. God, he was so stupid. Derek must have sensed Stiles putting the pieces together because he gave Stiles a pained look. “I think I need some air,” Stiles said.

“No.” Derek stepped away from Scott. “Scott, get out. I don’t want to see you for at least an hour.” Scott was gone as quick as he’d arrived, and Derek motioned for Stiles to sit. “I didn’t send Isaac to see you.”

“But you just said…”

“The one thing that would get Scott off your back. Isaac told me what happened. Said he was afraid Scott would find out.”

“You covered for us. But why?”

“I know you think I hate you, Stiles, but I really don’t. I want you to be happy. If that means you fucking Isaac, then I’ll cover for you. Besides. Scott doesn’t deserve Isaac.”

“And I do?”

“Isaac wants you. That’s good enough for me.”

“Is it safe to come out now?” Stiles looked up to see Peter leaning on the bannister. 

“Go and sit with Peter until the others get here.” Stiles headed for the stairs. “But, Stiles,” Derek’s eyes were red when he looked back at him. “Remember you are mine.” Stiles heard Derek’s earlier words repeated ‘I don’t need another Alpha in this pack’. Would that be so bad, getting kicked out of the pack? With the shit he’d been through the last ten months, did he really want to hang on to it, to them, the people who had hurt him most for their own ends? But he knew the answer. 

“Derek…” Derek turned back to him. “I don’t hate you either.” Derek nodded once, and Stiles made his way to Peter’s room leaving Derek staring after him. 

Peter wrapped him up in a hug and walked him through to the bed. He laid him down, pulled him into the little spoon and stroked his hair. “It’s going to be okay, Stiles. Just hang on in there.”

 

To say the meeting was strained was the understatement of the century. A bit like saying Werewolves weren’t really dangerous. Scott scowled more than Derek, if that was even possible, and it left Erica and Boyd unsettled. Isaac spent the entire meeting flushing a becoming shade of pink every time he caught Stiles’ eye, and Lydia huffed at every interaction knowing she was missing some vital piece of information. Only Peter was relaxed. Because Peter, was…well, Peter. Stiles was relieved when Derek called time and the pack left. He hovered, expecting Derek to get all handsy, but instead Derek clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Stiles. I know you aren’t at school anymore but you’re looking tired.”

“I, uh, yeah, haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Maybe you should stay at Peter’s for a couple of days. I know I complain when he spoils you, but perhaps that’s what you need right now.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say. He’d stepped into the twilight zone. “We talked about getting away for a couple of days. Would you be okay with that?” 

Derek considered for a moment. “I’d prefer you stayed in Beacon Hills, but if you think you need to get away, I’m okay with it. This time,” he added as a qualifier. “I know Peter will keep you safe.” His heavy gaze left Stiles flustered. “I need you safe, Stiles.” Stiles clamped down on the many, many, sarcastic comments threatening to spill out about exactly how hypocritical that statement was and nodded. “Good. Let me know where you decide to go, and when you get back.”

“Will do.” Stiles was still feeling dazed when he came face to face with Peter wearing a blazing grin. 

“Road trip anyone?” Stiles laughed. “Where do you want to go?” Peter asked.

“Anywhere?” Peter nodded. “In that case, I want to go to the beach.” Stiles hadn’t been to the beach since his Mom died. It was a hazy memory that always made him feel happy and warm inside and that was a feeling he could really do with revisiting in the real world. 

“The beach it is, then. How about something totally outrageous like…Sebastian, Fort Lauderdale?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“Oh, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles… I see it’s down to me to educate you once again. Let’s just say swim shorts are optional.” Peter waggled his eyebrows and Stiles grinned. 

“Now you’re talking.” Stiles was not only ready for naked sun bathing, he was ready to dial up the heat on his sexual activity too. Bring on the ‘all-you-can-fuck-buffet’ because Stiles was not only at the front of the queue to sample everything on offer, he was also happy to add himself to the menu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Sebastian isn't a nudist beach...I claim creative license :P

**Author's Note:**

> There are dark moments...as the title suggests, but I promise a bright, happy, and kickass Stiles by the end.


End file.
